


We go on and on and on

by almostblue (fictionalaspect)



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, BDSM, Biting, Blow Jobs With Teeth, Breathplay, Bruises, Comeplay, Coming Out, Consensual Kink, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gags, God I don't even know I will update the tags as I go, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I am sure I am forgetting things, Internalized Homophobia, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mild S&M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Overstimulation, Painplay, Rough Sex, Snowballing, Sub Drop, Submission, Teaching, abandoned and unfinished, be warned, minor Bloodplay, sex tears, there is an ending but it’s kind of hurty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/almostblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to try something," Yoongi murmurs, almost to himself. Hoseok opens his eyes inquisitively, and then he gasps as Yoongi carefully places the ice-cold base of his water bottle on the flat plane of Hoseok's stomach.</p><p>"Can you balance it?" Yoongi asks, and his eyes are curled in the corners, pleased and catlike. He sinks down cross-legged next to Hoseok, unable to take his eyes away from the bottle. </p><p>There's a sweet, aching throb in Hoseok's stomach that travels all the way down his spine and back up again. "Yeah," Hoseok manages, even though his stomach muscles are jumping and twitching. "It's fine." </p><p>"Mmm." Yoongi picks up the water bottle again, taking a casual slug. There is a ring of condensation left on Hoseok's stomach, and Hoseok bites his lip as Yoongi covers the trails of water with his palm and wipes them away. His hand is warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is almost finished, but I'm posting it in chapters because I'm ~~having trouble with the last few scenes~~ it has gone on much longer than I anticipated, and I could really use some encouragement. 
> 
> I will be updating the tags as I go; what's up there is just what I can remember off the top of my head. I'm sure I've forgotten some and I will warn appropriately as I post each chapter.

When Hoseok thinks of jokes, he thinks of kindness. He thinks of the flexibility he finds inherent in something so lighthearted. There is never any pushing or forcing where jokes are concerned. They hold enough space to gently let someone else back away. 

So the first time Yoongi laughs and pretends to strangle him, placing his hands lightly around the column of Hoseok's neck, Hoseok grins back, laughing even louder than before. He leans into the gentle touches that follow. He tests the space of the parameters between them, inch by inch, and watches as Yoongi does the same. 

__

 

It's not until Hoseok is falling asleep on Yoongi's shoulder one night, his legs kicked up onto a sleeping Jungkook, that Yoongi puts a name to it. And even then, he is cautious. Careful. Hoseok likes that about Yoongi, because Hoseok is the opposite of careful maybe 90% of the time. Their group seems to be perpetually stuck in a strange seven-member balancing act, but they have yet to let everything crash down around them. 

"You like it when I do this, don't you," Yoongi murmurs. His tone is offhand, as though they're discussing tomorrow's schedule. He strokes the tips of his fingers over the long line of Hoseok's neck.

"Mmm," Hoseok says. He's comfortable. For once, he's not feeling talkative. 

"It relaxes you. You get all boneless." Yoongi's hands are firm and even, halfway to a massage, except not quite. It feels like he's pressing down into Hoseok's center of gravity. It's lovely. 

"Mmmmmm," Hoseok agrees. He snuggles closer. He's cold, and Yoongi has all the blanket. Jeonkook is only doing so much to keep his feet warm. "Mmmmhmm."

Yoongi sighs, shifting so that Hoseok can actually snuggle up to his shoulder. He tugs the blanket around both of them, tipping his head back against the couch. 

"You're weird," Yoongi says, but his slur of tired satoori is fond. "You really like this?" He's lazily interested now, stroking at both Hoseok's throat with both thumbs. He traces invisible lines on either side of Hoseok's Adam's apple. Hoseok feels like he's sinking into Yoongi's chest, and the couch, and--below that--the earth. 

"You talk too much," Hoseok mumbles sleepily. He hides his smile in the fabric of Yoongi's shirt even as Yoongi starts giggling at the irony.

__

 

Practice ends at 3am, with all four of them sprawled on the dance mat. Their hyungs left at 2, but Hoseok had insisted on at least another hour, a few more run-throughs. Now the flourescent lights seem too bright and Hoseok's entire body is thrumming with tired adrenaline and the mat is blessedly cool against his cheek. 

"Hyung, come on," Jungkook says, standing up slowly and then holding out his hand to Hoseok. "You worked harder than any of us. Let's go back and rest." Next to him, Jimin is repeating the same plea to Yoongi. Hoseok grins, waving them off lazily. 

"Your hyungs will be fine," he says, pushing himself up. He's still out of breath. "Go rest. I need Yoongi to stay here for a second, and then we'll go back to the dorm." 

"Both of you, go on," Yoongi creaks, when Hoseok's order doesn't seem to be enough to move them. The dongsaengs shake their heads at each other, walking out slowly with worried looks.

Yoongi turns to face Hoseok, his flushed cheeks still pressed against the mat. "Why did you want me to stay?" he asks, blinking at Hoseok.

"Because I need help with my backbend," Hoseok sighs. "They're good, but they're not good enough. I don't trust them with my back just yet." 

Yoongi grins, always surprisingly sweet and disarming. "And you trust me?"

"You haven't dropped me yet," Hoseok says. "And besides, if I fall and break my back, now I can blame it on hyung." 

"Assface." Yoongi pushes himself upwards, stretching towards his toes. Hoseok pretends not to admire the view. 

"It's only for a few minutes," Hoseok says. "I need to get it right twice in a row. Then we can go sleep." 

Yoongi mumbles his agreement. "You should do a real backbend for me," he says, grabbing a fresh water bottle from the fridge. "I want some entertainment before I work for free." 

Hoseok snickers. "You need to ask Seokjin for that." Hoseok is flexible and talented and comfortable in his body, but he's not actually double-jointed. 

"I don't want to see Seokjin's creepy crabwalk," Yoongi laughs. He gestures with his water bottle. "Just do it. Just once. For me." 

Hoseok licks his lips, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders fall. He centers his body and his weight and his shoulders and when he starts to bend, on his way down, he catches a look of intense interest in Yoongi's eyes. 

"Happy?" Hoseok says, grinning upside down when he's finally placed himself in a perfect, controlled arch. The backbend actually feels wonderful after the long hours of practice; he breathes into it, letting each breath flow deeper into the stretch. His shirt hangs loose, exposing his stomach and hips.

"I want to try something," Yoongi murmurs, almost to himself. Hoseok opens his eyes inquisitively, and then he gasps as Yoongi carefully places the ice-cold base of his water bottle on the flat plane of Hoseok's stomach.

"Can you balance it?" Yoongi asks, and his eyes are curled in the corners, pleased and catlike. He sinks down cross-legged next to Hoseok, unable to take his eyes away from the bottle. 

There's a sweet, aching throb in Hoseok's stomach that travels all the way down his spine and back up again. "Yeah," Hoseok manages, even though his stomach muscles are jumping and twitching. "It's fine." 

"Mmm." Yoongi picks up the water bottle again, taking a casual slug. There is a ring of condensation left on Hoseok's stomach, and Hoseok bites his lip as Yoongi covers the trails of water with his palm and wipes them away. His hand is warm. 

"Isn't this what you need to practice?" Yoongi says. "Making sure your muscles aren't locked and you can lower down?"

"Yeah," Hoseok manages. His pulse is tumbling in his veins and he's starting to get lightheaded and he knows he can't hold this position for much longer. "I need to--If I pass out, you have to--"

"Heyy, shh," Yoongi says. His voice is low and thick. "I got you." His other palm comes up to cover Hosek's lower back. If Hoseok tilts his head back just far enough, he can see the flex of Yoongi's forearms. He's practically underneath him, positioned to catch all of Hoseok's weight if something goes wrong.

"Go," Yoongi says, and Hoseok sighs with relief as he begins to let his muscles unclench. Yoongi is a good spotter. He keeps his palms firm on Hoseok's skin, but not so tight that Hoseok can't move. 

Halfway down, Hoseok feels the sudden and familiar burn in his calves. He lets out a helpless whine, because this part _hurts_. Yoongi swallows visibly. 

"You're okay," he murmurs, his voice thick. He presses his thumb against Hoseok's lower belly, rubbing unconsciously at the muscles. "Just a little more---come on--"

"Aughhhh," Hoseok groans, finally just giving up and letting himself drop the final inch and a half. His hairline feels damp. There are drops of sweat beading on his stomach and running down his back. He's so overwhelmed that it takes him a few moments to realize that--at the last second--Yoongi had pulled his hands away from Hoseok's stomach and cradled Hoseok's skull to protect it from any impact. 

"Thanks," Hoseok says, looking up at Yoongi's wide eyes. He's still trying to catch his breath. "That's why I need you around." 

Yoongi traces his thumb down and around the curve of Hoseok's jawline. He skims his fingers down the line of Hoseok's neck, and Hoseok feels like purring under his hands. 

"You should be more careful," Yoongi croaks, after what seems like an eternity of silence. "You could have hurt yourself." 

"I could have," Hoseok agrees. "But I didn't. Because you were here." He takes a deep breath, turning his face slightly to the side, pressing into the cradle of Yoongi's hands. Yoongi's eyes are dark and fascinated. He can't seem to stop rubbing his hands over the vulnerable column of Hoseok's throat. 

Hoseok looks up at Yoongi through his eyelashes, and then he smirks, slow and pleased. He can't be sure through the layers of lycra and basketball shorts that they're both wearing, but he thinks Yoongi might be hard. His own dick throbs in response. 

"So," Hoseok says, smiling wide and bright. "You want to do that again?

 

__

 

That morning comes quick and soft, accidental and too-soon. It's 5am when they leave. The sun never lights up the sky the way it does at home--or where home is, sort of, for both of them. In Seoul, the sunrise is more of a change in atmosphere. A gradual, blushing rise from the semi-darkness to the light. 

"When do we have to get up again?" Yoongi yawns. His jaw cracks, and he winces. "Do you remember our schedule?"

"11am," Hoseok says. "I think. We can sleep in a little." 

"Five hours," Yoongi muses. He has a knitted beanie jammed onto his head despite the already-rising heat of the summer morning. Hoseok will never understand him sometimes. "I remember when that used to seem like a sin against god. How could a person possibly function on five hours of sleep?" 

Hoseok snorts. "Yeah, and how old were you? Ten?"

"Something like that." Yoongi smiles at him. "But now that sounds great, right? Five whole hours." He groans, rubbing his shoulder and switching his gym bag to his other side. "I think I need to ice my shoulder, though. Before I go to bed."

"What do you mean, you need to ice it?" Hoseok frowns. "Hyung, what did you do to it? Did you hurt it while I wasn't looking?"

"It didn't feel like I hurt it," Yoongi says. "Except now it kind of does." 

"Idiot," Hoseok says. "Give me your bag. I'll carry it the rest of the way back." 

"No, but I'm--"

"Hyung, don't tell me you're fine. The longer you carry that thing, the more you'll mess up your shoulder," Hoseok scolds, tugging Yoongi's gym bag away from him. "Even if you carry it on your other side. You should know better." 

"You're so pushy," Yoongi grumbles, shoving at Hoseok's shoulder. His hand lingers a moment too long, warm on Hoseok's skin even through the damp heat rising up from the concrete sidewalks around them.

"I'm a dancer," Hoseok says, waiting for Yoongi to open the door of their building and then following him upstairs and into their dorm. " _You're_ a dancer. Bodies are important. You can't just let injuries go." 

"I'm not injured. I'm _fine_ ," Yoongi says, sitting down at the kitchen table. "It's a little sore, jeez. Stop acting like I'm broken." 

"It's a little sore?" Hoseok raises an eyebrow. All of them are always "a little sore." If Yoongi is mentioning it, it has to be worse than that. 

"Yeah," Yoongi says. "It's no big deal." 

"Okay," Hoseok says. He runs his fingers over Yoongi's shoulder, and then he curls them in, tight, a rough grip that has Yoongi suddenly yelping in pain. 

"Ow! Jesus--fuck, what did you do that for?"

"To see how sore you were," Hoseok says, rolling his eyes. "That shouldn't have hurt that much. See?" He repeats the same action on the other shoulder, only to have Yoongi bit his lip and then sigh. 

Hoseok rubs his thumb over the nape of Yoongi's neck. "That grip is used for breaking up muscle knots in a massage, you idiot," Hoseok says affectionately. 

"It still kind of hurts," Yoongi mumbles. 

"Yeah, but it's the good kind of hurt, right?" Hoseok crosses their tiny kitchen, pulling an ice pack out of the freezer. 

"I--yeah," Yoongi says. Their eyes meet and their fingers brush as Hoseok hands him the ice pack. 

"I should shower," Hoseok says, after a moment of silence. 

"Mm." Yoongi is arranging the ice pack over his shoulder. 

"When I'm done, did you maybe want me to…?"

"Yes," Yoongi says, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Um. The other shoulder. If you don't mind."

"It will help your back relax," Hoseok says. "Everything's connected, you know." 

"Yeah," Yoongi says. He licks his lips, looking anywhere but at Hoseok. "I guess it is." 

\--

"What are you two doing?" Jimin takes another long swig from his water bottle, watching Hoseok curiously. Hoseok ignores him, leaning back into the pressure of Yoongi's hands on his shoulders. 

"Fixing Hoseok's back," Yoongi says. "He taught me some massage stuff." 

Jimin wiggles his eyebrows. Hoseok laughs, and Yoongi does something with his fingers that feels so amazing he can't help letting out a quiet moan. 

"Hey," Jimin says. "Hobi-hyung. You can teach me that, right? I want to know how to do that."

"Eh?" Hoseok opens his eyes. He doesn't remember shutting them. Yoongi's fingers dance along the column of his spine and then cradle the base of his skull. "Is everything okay? Did you forget to stretch this morning?"

"I'm fine," Jimin says, taking a seat beside them on the couch. "But massages are sexy, right? Girls like that stuff." 

Yoongi starts laughing. "Yeah," he says, trying to keep a straight face. "I hear they do." 

"If you're making Hobi hyung moan like that, imagine what I could do to a girl," Jimin says proudly. Hoseok bites down on his lower lip to keep from laughing. 

"He's not moaning," Yoongi says. He presses the pads of his fingers into the thick knots at the base of Hoseok's neck. "It's an involuntary reaction." 

"But," Jimin says. "But. Girls, though." 

"Jiminnie," Hoseok says, losing it and starting to laugh. Yoongi gives an exasperated sigh as Hoseok crumples forward, overwhelmed by giggles. "What Yoongi's doing probably isn't what you want to do to a girl. It's like a sports massage. It kind of hurts, to be honest." 

"Oh," Jimin says. He frowns. "Damn." 

"If you want someone to teach you how to woo the ladies, go ask Seokjin," Hoseok says. "I'm sure he could give you some sexy massage romance advice." 

Jimin snorts, shaking his head and leaving them alone on the couch. 

"How long do you think before he finds Seokjin and asks him about it?" Hoseok says, craning his neck back and to the side to see Yoongi's face. 

"Twenty minutes, tops," Yoongi says. His smile is sweet. Whether it's for Hoseok or Jimin--or both of them--Hoseok doesn't know. "You want to bet?"

"10,000 won," Hoseok says. "I win if it takes him longer than twenty minutes." 

"Done," Yoongi says. His palms rest heavy on Hoseok's shoulders. "Does it really hurt when I rub your shoulders, though? You want me to keep going?"

"Yeah, but I like it when it hurts," Hoseok says absentmindedly. He faces forward and rolls his neck, cracking it loudly. It takes a few moments for the sudden silence to register. "Yoongi hyung?"

"What? Yeah, I'm," Yoongi says. "I'm good. Sorry." 

Hoseok swallows. Yoongi's thumbs are stroking along the back of his neck. Hoseok leans backwards into his touch. His fingers skate around the side of Hoseok's neck and Hoseok breathes in sharply, just for a moment, imagining how it would feel to have Yoongi's hands around his throat. Imagining how different this could be if they weren't in the practice room, if they were alone, if Yoongi just went a little _harder_ on him.

If, if if. 

"You really do like it, don't you," Yoongi says softly. He turns his thumb inward, catching the skin of Hoseok's neck with his nail. The path it leaves is thin and trembling and hot. Hoseok sucks in another breath. "When it hurts." 

"Mmm," Hoseok manages. "Yeah. Kind of." 

"And you want me to keep going?" Yoongi's voice is thick with slurred vowels. Hoseok likes it. He likes it too much, and he knows that, and yet he can't stop pushing. 

"Your accent just came out," Hoseok murmurs back. 

Yoongi's thumbnail presses in, sharp and clean. Hoseok doesn't know how he's supposed to practice after this. He doesn't know how he's going to focus. His spine is liquid. Hot and melting and everything he shouldn't be feeling, right here, right now. Not in this room full of people. 

"But do you want to keep _going_ ," Yoongi says. He leaves the most important part of the sentence unspoken. The part that they can both hear, but that neither of them will say out loud. Not yet. 

"Yeah," Hoseok says. "And do it harder this time, okay? There's still a few knots." 

Yoongi's fingers tighten, and then release. Hoseok can hear him let out a long, slow breath. 

"Sure," Yoongi says. His voice is suddenly, deceptively light. "Of course. Harder." 

"Please," Hoseok says. The word tastes like honey on his tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, thank you guys so much ;w; I can't believe how many of you have commented to tell me you like this - it really means so much to me ♥ I honestly thought I was the only person who wanted this yoonseok story to exist and I'm so glad that I'm not alone. 
> 
> I can't get to the individual comments until tomorrow, but for now, have another chapter for the weekend! ♥

Yoongi has a bite mark two inches wide on his upper thigh. It's soft with color, with mottled purples and greens and a set of teeth marks, neat and precise. It is a bite mark. There is no other explanation.

Hoseok knows nothing about it, and he's sticking to that story.

__

 

The heat had been intolerable that night; seven bodies crammed into one tiny apartment, with a wheezing air conditioner and two fans failing to make a dent in the humidity. Seokjin had promptly parked himself in front of it after dinner, falling asleep within minutes and leaving the rest of them to clean and do the dishes. 

"Why can't we just move him?" Jungkook whined, up to his elbows in dirty sink water. "He's blocking all the cold air."

"Jeon Jungkookie," Yoongi said severely. "Let him sleep." He wasn't angry, exactly, but there were deep circles below his eyes and a growl in his voice that suggested pain and misery for anyone who disagreed with him.

"Fine," Jungkook sulked. Hoseok reached over and pinched him on the ass, laughing when it made Jungkook yelp. He grinned over at Jungkook and Jungkook smiled back and just like that, the tension was lifted in the room and something opened up again in Hoseok's chest. Discord always made him feel discordant. 

Later, After chores and lazy tweeting and that day's selcas (pouting, making silly faces, doing their best to look handsome despite the awful heat, editing the fuck out of them, tracking their retweets with unmitigated glee), they had all found the top bunks to be unusable. If it was hot in their apartment, it was stifling while lying down 25 centimeters from the ceiling. 

Hoseok offered up his bottom bunk to Yoongi, the only hyung who slept on a top bunk, but Yoongi just shrugged. "I can just sleep right here," he said, not moving from where he was slumped on the couch. "Whatever. S'fine." 

"I'll take it," Taehyung said immediately. "Can I have it, Hobi hyung? Can I?" 

"Ah--" Hoseok looked around the room, trying to calculate spaces and bodies in his mind. 

"I'll take Seokjin's bunk," Jimin said, yawning. "If he wakes up and kicks me out, I'll just sleep on the floor out here." 

Hoseok rubbed his forehead, and his fingers came away damp with sweat. It was only 2am, but he couldn't think straight. 

"Okay," Hoseok finally said, glancing over to where Yoongi was giving absolutely no fucks about this whole conversation. "Whatever. Do whatever you want. I'm sleeping out here in front of the fan. I can't breathe in the bedroom. It's too hot."

Hoseok slumped down on the couch next to Yoongi, sighing in relief as lights were turned off and showers argued about and the world continued to spin him, neither needing nor wanting his opinions. Hoseok didn't want to be a hyung right now ; he wanted to go the fuck to sleep. He was grateful for the respite. 

"If you try to cuddle me tonight," Yoongi murmured, in a voice that was almost fond, "I will actually fucking kill you."

"Same," Hoseok murmured, before closing his eyes. 

Both of them ignored the fact that their pinky fingers were barely, just barely touching. 

__

The next time Hoseok woke up, it was in a cold sweat. He felt his limbs twist and jerk, and then Yoongi was peering down at him, blurry and almost unrecognizable. 

"Shit," Yoongi was muttering, stripping his own clothing off down to his boxers. "Shit, shit, come on. You need to take a shower. You've got heatstroke." 

Hoseok tried to make his mouth work, but words seemed beyond him. He could feel the sweat drenching his body, yet he felt cold and nauseous. It was hard to focus. 

"Come on," Yoongi said. He pushed and pulled until Hoseok was sitting upright, and then he was holding a large glass of water to Hoseok's lips. "Drink this. We need to go sit in the shower." 

Hoseok wanted to ask where Yoongi's sudden first-aid knowledge came from, but then he remembered that Yoongi was the youngest. Maybe his older brother had done this for him before; Hoseok didn't know. 

He drank the glass of water. 

The room tilted and spun--span-- _spins_.

"Yah, okay, up," Yoongi says. He tugs on Hoseok's arms until Hoseok manages to stand up, and then throws most of Hoseok's weight onto his own shoulder. His hand slips around Hoseok's waist and there is skin, suddenly. 

So much hot skin, slippery with sweat. Hoseok leans on Yoongi before he can stop himself. Despite the heat, despite everything, Yoongi smells good. He smells like the ocean, like the mist and spray of the sea and the thick green seaweed that rolls in and out with the tides. 

"Here," Yoongi says, setting Hoseok down on the floor of the bathroom. The tile is blessedly cool. Yoongi closes the door most of the way shut, leaving a crack for the steam to escape, and then he helps Hoseok out of his basketball shorts and into the shower. 

They're both wearing only underwear and Hoseok wants to laugh at that, somehow, because this feels like he's suddenly wandered into one of his nighttime fantasies, except his head aches and his mind is blurry and Yoongi isn't kissing him. 

The cool water hits him like a thousand sharp knives--no, needles, Hoseok thinks, sighing as the water covers his body. The water is like needles, like acupuncture, like the thin sting of pain that promises relief. 

Yoongi groans, standing up for a moment to drench himself, to push his bangs back from his forehead and rinse the sweat off his body. His underwear sticks to his skin, outlining every shape and curve. Hoseok stares unabashedly. 

Just at that moment, Yoongi turns. He meets Hoseok's gaze and there is--something that passes through him, something like a shiver, but maybe it's just the water. Hoseok's head is starting to clear, but now other places are beginning to throb. 

Yoongi finishes rinsing himself quickly, his cheeks flushed and then sits down next to Hoseok. "Better?" he says. Thick satoori. Yoongi is nervous. Nervous, or turned on, or both, maybe. Hoseok licks his lips. 

"Yeah," he says. "Thanks hyung. I feel really weird." 

"You were burning up," Yoongi says, reaching out to place his palm over Hoseok's forehead again. "You were kicking out and moaning in your sleep and then you wouldn't wake up." Yoongi would never say something like _you scared me_ , but Hoseok hears it in his words all the same. 

"I'm starting to feel better," Hoseok promises him. He covers Yoongi's hand on his forehead and links their fingers, bringing their hands down and squeezing them together reassuringly. "I just need to...sit here for a while." 

"Yeah," Yoongi agrees. "I might just do that too. Do you think we'll drown if we fall asleep in the shower?" 

"Nah," Hoseok says. He shuffles closer, so they're shoulder to shoulder. "Not if we're sitting up. I think." 

"Good," Yoongi says. 

For a long time, they say nothing. The water is sweet and calming on Hoseok's skin; it soon turns from cold to more of a tepid spray, but Hoseok doesn't mind. Anything is better than feeling the way he did when he woke up. 

Hoseok sticks out his tongue, suddenly feeling thirsty again. Yoongi looks over at him and laughs. He's slumped down against the wall, head leaning against Hoseok's shoulder, one arm draped loosely around Hoseok's waist. 

"Don't laugh," Hoseok says, choking for a moment on his own mouthful of water. "I'm so thirsty."

"Yah, don't drink that!" Yoongi says, slapping Hoseok on the arm, right on one of his old bruises. "It's bad for you. It tastes weird. It's probably full of chemicals and dead people and shit!" 

"It's fine," Hoseok argues back, swallowing another mouthful greedily and ignoring the way that slap goes straight down his spine, making him jerk and stutter. "They did a study. It was on the news." 

"The news ain't shit," Yoongi says. He rubs his fingers over Hoseok's arm. "I slapped you kind of hard," Yoongi says. Hoseok nods. He translates in his own head. _Min Yoongi says he's sorry for hitting you_.

Yoongi's fingers dance over Hoseok's largest bruise. "How did you even get this?"

Hoseok laughs, taking a break from drinking the water and pushing his own bangs out of his eyes as he turns towards Yoongi. 

"Taehyung bit me," Hoseok says, grinning. "Can you believe that? We were arguing over something and he wanted some of my food or shit, I don't really remember, and I was like, no, go away, go bother Jimminie. And he said he'd bite me if I didn't give it to him, and I ignored him and then he _did_." 

Hoseok doesn't think of that bite the same way he thinks of Yoongi's hands on his skin. This was just Taehyung being Taehyung, getting his weird slobber all over the sleeve of Hoseok's stage uniform and getting stuck with half of Jungkook's chores for a week in return. Hoseok doesn't like doling out punishments and he likes ratting out his friends even less, but. Taehyun _bit_ him. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, looks fascinated. He pushes his thumb into the bruise and watches as it changes color. Hoseok hisses through his teeth. 

"On your bare skin?" Yoongi says. 

"No," Hoseok says. His heart rate is starting to speed up. "Through my clothes." 

"Did he do it hard?"

"I---I don't know," Hoseok says. "Pretty hard." He's definitely short of breath. Suddenly this feels like a minefield, as though he has wandered back into a conversation they had weeks ago. 

_Do you want me to keep going?_

"I wonder what that feels like," Yoongi muses. "No one's ever bit me before." 

Hoseok licks his lips. 

"Do you want me to?" he says, before he loses his courage. 

Yoongi's mouth opens, a flash of pink tongue and tiny teeth. Then it closes and his mouth quirks up at one side and Hoseok knows, with utter certainty, that the game is on and he's so fucked and oh god, he wants it that way. 

"Yeah," Yoongi says, his voice deceptively casual. "Why not?" 

"Where?"

"Here," Yoongi says. He doesn't hesitate as he pushes one leg of his sodden boxer briefs up, as he reveals more pale skin on the inner meat of his thigh. "It won't show that way." 

"Right." Hoseok doesn't mention that biting Yoongi there will put Hoseok's face centimeters away from Yoongi's dick. He's sure Yoongi is aware. It feels like the air between them is vibrating softly. 

There is nothing left to do but follow orders, so Hoseok does. He shifts, leaning over Yoongi, reaching down until he can sink his teeth into the skin of Yoongi's thigh.

At the first touch of Hoseok's teeth, Yoongi jerks up. Hoseok uses that movement to lean in further, to seal his mouth around the skin and bite down as hard as he can. He wants Yoongi to _feel_ it. He wants Yoongi to know and to understand the strange tightness that gets all wound up inside Hoseok's skin. 

He wants Yoongi to understand _why_

The floor of the shower is slippery, and he has to grab onto Yoongi for balance. He ends up curled around Yoongi's leg more than anything else, holding on to Yoongi's thigh and back, while Yoongi clutches Hoseok's back and breathes and lets out soft, quiet moans.

Hoseok pulls off for air just as Yoongi's hands clutch into his hair. They slip across the wet strands before finding purchase, and Hoseok whimpers at the sharp tug. 

"Again," Yoongi murmurs, almost inaudible over the spray. He's guiding Hoseok's mouth to another spot on his leg, _closer_ to the crease of his thigh than before, and Hoseok is hard and he's gasping and Yoongi's voice is so low and thick and--

\--and the door is opening, _fuck_ , the fucking door to the bathroom oh god oh god oh GOD.

They jump away from each other as if stung. Yoongi groans and _thunks_ his head back agains the flimsy shower wall, and then he stands up, twisting his hips away. Hoseok doesn't miss that Yoongi stands right in front of Hoseok's hips as he grabs onto the shower curtain, his ankles brushing the sides of Hoseok's hipbones. He's covering for Hoseok. For both of them. 

Yoongi yanks the shower curtain open. "What?" he growls, only to see Taehyung's bemused and sleepy face. 

"What are you doing?" Taehyung mumbles, blinking at them. "It's only 8am. We don't have to be up for another hour." 

"Hobi-hyung was sick," Yoongi says, reaching down a hand to Hoseok. Hoseok takes it, standing up carefully. He feels weak on his knees, but not quite so awful anymore. He feels like his body temperature is back to normal. And the temperature in other places. "He got heatstroke or something." 

"Oh," Taehyung says, looking concerned. He reaches out his own hands for Hoseok, running them over his shoulders, like he's checking to make sure everything is in the right place. "Are you better now? Did Yoongi hyung fix you?"

"Yeah," Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a tired smile. "I'm better." 

"Okay," Taehyung says. "Good. And--oh, wow, Yoongi-hyung, where did you get that bruise? I don't remember biting _you_." 

"That's because you didn't," Yoongi says brusquely, pushing past Taehyung and reaching for one of their dirty towels. "It's a long story. "

"I like long stori---"

"Not this one, you don't," Yoongi says.

Taehyung turns to Hoseok as Yoongi leaves the room, frowning in consternantion. Hoseok just shrugs, reaching out for his own towel. "Yoongi hyung," he says, giving Taehyun his best _your guess is as good as mine_ look. "He's probably cranky because he just realized how much sleep he's lost."

"Probably," Taehyung agrees. He sheds his clothing with little thought or care, stepping naked into the shower. 

Hoseok rinses his face off in the sink. When he stares back at his reflection, wide-eyed and flushed, all he can think is-- _something has changed_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know - I have a chronic illness, and no real control over when and how it flares up. If I disappear for a while--as I did--it's not because I want to, but because I'm probably sick as a dog. Doing my best to get some more chapters out (which I am re-editing as I post, hence the delay), but there's only so much I can do while still being a responsible adult. I promise, there's some action soon! Hah. So, so much action /o\

The air conditioner gives up the ghost on a Thursday; exactly two weeks after the incident in the shower, four and a half weeks before their next comeback, and right in the middle of a midsummer heatwave.

Namjoon calls a meeting in their blessedly cool and industrially air-conditioned practice room. Hoseok leans against the side of their single couch, happy to concede a seat to his hyungs. He’d be happy never to move again, if he’s honest. It’s 11pm, he still hasn’t eaten dinner, and he has hours and hours of work stretching out before him. He’d been hoping to sneak in a 20 minute nap somewhere, but then the damn air conditioner had to go and break and render their dorm housing entirely unlivable.   
“We have to tell Bang Sihyuk-sshi,” Jin says, after a long moment where everyone is silent. “We can’t stay there. We’ll all die. Like, actually die.” 

Namjoon sighs, pushing his sweaty bangs off his face. “What if we just slept here? At the studio? This heatwave won’t last forever. Or--maybe we could try getting more fans for the dorm?”

“Hyung, even if we got fans, I don’t think I could handle sleeping on the top bunk,” Jimin says, quiet and respectful. “I think if we did that, we’d have to share the bottom bunks somehow.” 

“Ugh, I feel hot just thinking about it,” Jungkook groans. 

“Of course you do, baby,” Taehyung deadpans. He’s lying flat on his back, spread eagle, one cheek pressed against the cold wooden floor. “You’d be sharing with me and Jimin.”

Jungkook makes a disgusted noise, but even that lacks his usual vigor. “Ew. Gross.” 

“Yah,” Yoongi says. He reaches out and kicks Jungkook in the foot. “Focus, Golden boy.”

Hoseok leans his head back against the arm of the couch. “I don’t know,” he says, yawning in the middle of the sentence as his own reflexes catch him by surprise. “Maybe it would be like a sauna. We wouldn’t have to diet as much before the comeback. We’d just…sweat it all out. Seokjin hyung? What do you think?” 

Seokjin frowns. “I don’t think it works that way. Besides, we’d be drowning in our own sweat every night. Can you imagine our skin? It would be disgusting.” 

“Oh my fucking god,” Yoongi mutters, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “We are not using this like some sort of weird comeback diet strategy, Christ.”

“I was like, 80% kidding,” Hoseok says.

“Look, I know Bang Sihyuk-sshi is scary, but we need an air conditioner.” Yoongi’s tone is regretful. “Namjoonie, I’ll go with you when you ask. If you want.” 

Namjoon nods slowly. “And you’re _sure_ you can’t fix it?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Tried twice. Nothing. It’s dead. Even if Bang-sshi makes us all chip in, I think we need to do it.”

“I’m in,” Jimin says, tipping his head tiredly against Namjoon’s knees. “I can’t deal with the heat in there. It makes me feel all woozy and shit.” 

“Same,” Seokjin says. “Namjoonie, I’ll come with you too. It’s easier when he yells at all of us. Right?”

Namjoon bites his lip—not concerned, really, just deep in thought. “What about you two?” he says, nodding at Hoseok and Taehyung. “You’ve been mostly quiet this whole time.” 

“I’ll do whatever the group wants,” Taehyung says, his eyes closed and his whole body relaxed. He’s going to fall asleep in here about 5 seconds after they end this conversation, Hoseok just knows it. 

“Hobi?” Namjoon gives Hoseok an inquisitive look. 

“I don’t want to die in the shower again,” Hoseok says, trying to muster up one of his usual smiles. He has to dig down deeper inside than he usually does, but once he finds that spot, it gleams bright and sweet from his face. Hoseok doesn’t think he’ll ever feel so run-down that he can’t muster up a smile for his members. “I mean, I woke up with Yoongi hyung trying to molest me in the shower—“ 

“I was _not_ ,” Yoongi says, kicking Hoseok in the shoulder while Seokjin snorts at the image and Jungkook lets out a giggle. “Jesus, next time I swear to god I’m just going to leave you to die. ALL of you, considering I doubt it will happen to Hoseok again.”

“If it involves _you_ getting me naked while I’m sleeping, I’m voting for my death right now,” Jungkook says dryly. “Just, you know. As a precaution. Unlike Hobi-hyung, I intend to die with dignity—“ his words are cut off by the sound of his voice dissolving into laughter as both Yoongi and Jimin attack, going right for his most ticklish spots.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, smirking as he watches Jungkook gasp for air on the floor. “Then I’m going to talk to Bang-sshi now, I think he’s still here---Oh for fuck’s sake, Kookie, don’t give me those puppy eyes, you _know_ you’re a little shit and you deserved that.” 

“You’re all assholes,” Jungkook whines, curling up near Hoseok’s left foot, obviously hoping for some protection from Hobi if another round of tickling ensues. Hoseok laughs. 

“You’re a terrible son,” he says seriously, reaching out to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. “Listen to you, speaking to your Umma and Appa that way. They’re going off to beg and save your life, and all you can do is whine!” 

Jimin and Taehyung both laugh. Seokjin and Namjoon roll their eyes in unison while Yoongi, standing next to them, just barely manages to hold in a snort. Hoseok looks over to see Yoongi’s eyes crinkled with amusement. There is a soft fondness in Yoongi’s expression that makes Hoseok’s chest feel weak. 

“Well, while we’re off begging and foraging for supplies, you all can make yourselves useful and drag all the mats out of the storage room,” Seokjin says. “No matter what Bang-Sshi says, I think we’ll all be sleeping in here for a few days. Hobi, do you mind staying and making sure these useless dongsaengs do what they’re told for once?” Seokjin’s tone is light and amused, and it brings another smile to Hoseok’s mouth. 

“Ah, I suppose so,” Hobi says, drawing out the vowels and placing one hand over his heart, like a distressed maiden. “If you’re going to leave me here _anyway_.”

“You can kick them,” Namjoon volunteers, dodging a knee-punch from Taehyung and laughing. “If that helps?”

“I’m sure I’ll be just fine,” Hoseok says, batting his lashes and playing it up as hard as he can. “You all run along now.” 

“Anything for a pretty ahjumma!” Namjoon calls out, once he’s safely behind the door to the studio. 

“Ooooooh,” the crowd in the practice room murmurs in unison, looking over at Hoseok for a reaction. 

“Come on,” Hoseok says, dragging himself up. “First to finish helping with the mats gets to help me soak Seokjin with water from the mop bucket when they return.”  
_

“Hobi!” 

The word is hissed in Hoseok’s ear, a crash of syllables murmured by a familiar voice. 

Hoseok jumps, startled awake. He blinks rapidly, jerking away from the sound of the noise and trying to get his bearings. He’s—he’s in a chair. Oh. He's in his chair, in his studio room, and Yoongi is leaning against the wall and giving him an amused look. There’s drool on Hoseok’s left cheek.

Ew.

“Hey,” Hoseok creaks out, trying to surreptitiously wipe the drool off his chin. “Uh. What’s up?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Come listen to this thing I’m working on. I want a second opinion.”

“What time is it?” Hoseok can’t help himself from yawning.

“Uh…” Yoongi pauses, pulling out his phone to check. “A little after 4am.” 

“Okay,” Hoseok says. He gets up out of his chair, settling his snapback more firmly on his head. He hadn’t bothered with getting dressed again after dance practice had ended; he knew the rest of his night would consist of either working or attempting to sleep on their practice mats, so he’d just pulled on some old tracksuit pants and a ratty sweatshirt. He’s aware that he’s not at his finest right now, but oh well. Yoongi isn’t either, and he’s the one who saw fit to wake Hoseok up at ass o’clock in the morning to listen to his new demo.

They tiptoe past the darkened, sleeping forms of their bandmates and into Yoongi’s studio. Both Jungkook and Namjoon’s rooms have their lights turned off; the only room with any illumination emanating from underneath the doorway is Yoongi’s. 

Hoseok yawns again, licking his lips and wishing for a drink to wash away the sleep-flavored aftertaste in his mouth. There’s a can of Hot6 next to Yoongi’s monitors. 

“Getting stingy in your old age, aren’t you,” Hoseok says, lifting the can to his mouth to steal a sip.

“They didn’t have any Red Bull.” Yoongi frowns as he clicks on the track. “Shit, wait. Let me fix something first.”

Hoseok nods, waving a hand at Yoongi as if to say, _go on_. He leans up against the wall, trying to brush the sleep out of his eyes. 

Yoongi looks like he hasn’t slept at all, which isn’t unusual but tends to give him a transparent, delicate quality if he pushes it long enough. It’s as though the threads binding him together have begun to unspin themselves, just a little, and the gaps and holes in his being have started to show. 

“Okay,” Yoongi says, handing the headphones to Hoseok. The veins under his wrists are arcing clusters of lines, cast blue and green in the light from the computer screen. 

Hoseok wishes he didn’t notice these things.

Hoseok slips the headphones on and listens. The beat is slow and thick, a heavy bassline that thrums though his body and settles in his spine. A piano sample trips lightly over the bass, with Yoongi’s voice weaving in and out of the whole composition. 

That’s my life / Nothing is sacred /   
I don’t keep friends / I keep acquainted   
I’m not a prophet / but I’m here to profit 

That’s it / I’m gone   
That’s my life / Nothing is sacred   
I don’t fall in love / I just fake it   
I don’t fall in love   
I don’t fall in love   
I just fake it 

Hoseok pulls the headphones off. “I like it,” he says, honestly. “The lyrics are pretty dope. It’s for the mixtape, right?”

Yoongi laughs, taking the headphones back and setting them down on the desk. His smile is wide and delighted, obviously happy with Hoseok’s response. “Like I could get away with slipping that shit into a Bangtan song.”

Hoseok shrugs. “Namjoon’s done worse,” he says. “It’s not that bad. I mean, you could just play it all hard-Daegu-tough-guy, you know?” Hoseok grabs an imaginary mike, crouching down low, pretending to spit fire on stage. “I don’t fall in love, I just fake it, fake it,” Hoseok raps, in a nearly unintelligible Daegu satori.

“ _Play_ it?” Yoongi drawls, giving Hoseok an incredulous expression and sticking his chest out. “You mean you don’t think I’m manly enough? You think I’m just faking all my shit onstage. I mean it. I don’t fall in love, I just fake it.” He’s keeping a perfectly straight face, but his eyes are laughing. 

Hoseok grins, punching him in the arm. “Yeah, you and all that pussy you’ve been getting,” Hoseok says, dropping back into his own familiar Jeolla slang. Yoongi bursts out laughing, nearly choking himself on his Hot6. Hoseok rarely pulls out the really filthy stuff, but it’s not like he doesn’t know how to _say_ it. 

“I’m—okay, okay, you win,” Yoongi says, when he can’t stop snickering even after a few moments have past. “I got nothing. What the fuck, I’ve known you for _three years _, where did you learn how to say that?”__

__“In a bar when my friends from home came up to visit that one night,” Hoseok says, laughing. “The guy who owns the place comes from my town.”_ _

__“Clearly,” Yoongi says. He sighs. “God, I should keep working on this, but I’m so tired.” He rubs a hand over his eyes._ _

__“You keep doing whatever you want to do,” Hoseok says, tugging his hoodie off and pillowing it on top of Yoongi’s gym bag. “I’m going to nap. Wake me up if we have to be somewhere.”_ _

__“You’re just going to nap on the floor?”_ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“In here?”  
“It’s really nice and cold in here,” Hoseok points out. “I mean, if you’re going to whine about it, I can always go sleep in my studio.” _You’re the one who woke me up at 4am,_ he thinks to himself. _I know you’re lonely, even if you’re never going to admit it. Just let me stay here with you.__ _

__Yoongi blinks at his computer screen for a long moment, and then he nods. “Okay,” he says, standing up and stretching, then pushing his computer chair back underneath the desk. “Shove over.”_ _

__“Eh?”_ _

__“If you’re sleeping, I’m sleeping,” Yoongi says, with a determined sort of authority. “I am not going to sit around and work while someone else is sleeping. Fuck no. I am going to _sleep_.”_ _

__“You were always so dedicated to your studies,” Hoseok mumbles. “It’s a shame you never took 1st with all that hard work.”_ _

__“Oh, shut up.” Yoongi arranges himself on the floor, huddling down in his hood with a satisfied smile. The gym bag doesn’t leave them much room for personal space, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, and Hoseok doesn’t care. He’ll sleep curled up next to Yoongi’s shoulder tonight. That’s okay. That’s fine by him, really. Hoseok has no complaints._ _

__“Oh my god,” Yoongi mutters, when Hoseok snuggles a little closer. “I’ve told you a thousand times. You do not get to be the big spoon. You are not the big spoon in this relationship.”_ _

__“What relationship?” Hoseok mumbles, already treading the path towards sleep with foggy dreams._ _

__“This relationship,” Yoongi says, gesturing between them. “This sleeping relationship. Right here. This---oh, for fuck’s sake. Just roll over.”_ _

__“Mmmph,” Hoseok says. He rolls away from Yoongi, curling up on his opposite side. Yoongi’s arm is warm where he rests it around Hoseok’s middle, and his nose is cold as he presses it against the back of Hoseok’s neck._ _

__“Big spoon,” Yoongi mumbles, apparently satisfied by their spooning arrangement now that that’s been worked out._ _

__“Mmmm,” Hoseok says. He manages to pat Yoongi’s hand – in consolation or congratulation, he’s not sure which—before falling entirely into the sleeping dark._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thousand million points if you know which song I took Suga's lyrics from, _without_ having to ask google ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Hoseok wakes up sweet and soft. Gentle. 

His eyes flutter open; he is warm, pleasantly so. There is someone holding him from behind, an anchor in the absolute darkness of the practice room. 

He processes individual sensations and knits them together. Yoongi’s particular smell and his small hands pressed against Hoseok’s bare stomach. His mouth pressed against the back of Hoseok’s neck, breathing in and out, in and out. 

Hoseok shifts his weight, about to yawn and stretch out all of his limbs, until he blearily notices that Yoongi is hard against him.

He is hard in a way that suggests helpless arousal, in a way that steals Hoseok’s breath and has him pushing backwards slowly, so slowly. Hoseok bites his tongue and softens his breathing. He’s still half asleep, but it seems as though there are other clues to investigate before giving up the game. Is Yoongi even awake? His mouth is soft against Hoseok’s neck. His fingers are curled limply against Hoseok’s skin, except for the moments in which he sleepily brushes over Hoseok’s stomach with his thumbnail. 

Hoseok swallows. He sighs. He wriggles slightly—still under the cover of sleep, oh yes, Hoseok is still asleep, of course he is—and manages to both knock his phone slightly, and press his ass up against Yoongi’s erection. 

His phone screen lights up as he jostles it. It is 8:32 in the morning, far too early for anyone to come looking for them. They are in a dark room, the door is locked (oh god, oh god--- _hopefully locked_ ), and, _and_ \---

\--“You’re a terrible actor,” Yoongi whispers, forming the words against Hoseok’s skin. “I know you’re awake.” 

Hoseok swallows again. He takes a deep breath, settling himself more fully into Yoongi’s arms. This is going to be so much easier if they don’t have to talk about it. Hoseok doesn’t really _want_ to talk about it. He just wants Yoongi to get the message, to understand what they both need—

“I don’t understand why you make me feel like this,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is low, cracked at the seams. 

Hoseok bites his lip. “Like what?” Better to play safe. 

There’s a long pause, long enough that Hoseok thinks that maybe they won’t need to have this conversation after all. 

Then Yoongi bites the back of his neck. 

Hard. 

 

“Fuck,” Hoseok gasps out. The pain makes his whole spine light up, makes him arch into the sensation, makes him want to give and give until there’s no more of him left. Yoongi’s fingers are claws in his stomach, gently curved, holding him in place as he pulls away and laps at the mark. 

“You know what I mean,” Yoongi whispers. He slides his fingers to Hoseok’s hip, pulling Hoseok backwards and rolling their hips together, an unmistakable message. 

“But it’s like—I don’t—“ Yoongi rests his forehead against Hoseok’s neck, against the bite mark that Hoseok will have to explain away tomorrow. 

Hoseok tries to breathe. 

“Why don’t we just talk about it after I get you off,” Hoseok whispers. He shifts impatiently, his own erection straining against his waistband. He can feel the moment that Yoongi gives in, the moment that the tension between them slides into breathless liquidity. 

“You would—“

“I told you, I want you to hurt me,” Hoseok murmurs, turning to face Yoongi. He has to keep his eyes lowered because oh, god, the begging, the begging. It makes his body and his cheeks flame, and he’s not sure he can look Yoongi in the eyes right now. “Please just hurt me, I’ll get you off, I promise, come on—“

Yoongi tugs Hoseok forward, biting down on the curve between Hoseok’s neck and shoulder, letting his teeth sink in with a moan that travels straight to Hoseok’s belly. Hoseok scrabbles at Yoongi’s back for purchase, trying to align their limbs so he can just rub off against Yoongi’s leg. Or---or whatever, really. Hoseok doesn’t care. This is all he’s been waiting for and his body feels like it’s on fire.

Yoongi breaks away, gasping for air and tugging at Hoseok’s shirt. 

“Is the door—“

“Yeah, it’s fine, come on—“ 

Another searing kiss, another scratch of raised trail marks left by fingernails across Hoseok’s stomach. His hips jump up, jump forward, and Yoongi is there to meet him. 

Hoseok ducks his head, nipping at the curve of Yoongi’s chin, relishing the taste of salt on his tongue. He slips a hand under Yoongi’s shirt, tentative, exploring, but it still makes Yoongi pause.

“I don’t care,” Hoseok murmurs, pressing kisses to Yoongi’s collar bone, arching his back and gasping as Yoongi scratches a beautiful curve down Hoseok’s spine. He knows how Yoongi feels about his own body, but all Hoseok wants to do is finally, finally touch him. “It’s pitch black. Just let me—“

“Yeah, fine,” Yoongi whispers, clearly involved in more important things. Things like biting and licking every inch of Hoseok’s chest, his upper arms, the sharp curve of his chin and the delicate, sensitive whorl of his ear.

Hoseok tugs Yoongi’s shirt off. They both groan softly at the sudden feeling of skin on skin aand Hoseok realizes—belatedly—that they haven’t even kissed yet.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, tipping his chin up, trying to meet Yoongi’s mouth. There’s a long pause where Hoseok thinks almost-- _almost_ \--and then Yoongi is turning his head to the side, letting Hoseok’s mouth land on his cheek. 

_Right_ , Hoseok thinks, and tries not to let his stomach twist with disappointment. _Okay. Whatever. That’s cool._

Yoongi rolls on his back, pulling Hoseok on top of him. He keeps him close, as though he’s trying to say _I’m sorry_. His hand is still trapped between them. 

Hoseok lifts up on his elbows, to give Yoongi some room, and suddenly all of his attention is focused on the way Yoongi’s hand is sliding down, down, down. 

Hoseok takes a deep breath, meets Yoongi’s questioning expression with his own silent approval, and then he leans over Yoongi’s shoulder and bites down on his sweatshirt so he doesn’t yell or scream. 

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi murmurs, quick hands pushing Hoseok’s pants and underwear down, curving around his hips and brushing over the thick head of his cock. “Oh fuck, you’re so—“Yoongi’s heart is pounding against Hoseok’s chest and, for the first time, Hoseok wonders if maybe Yoongi has never done this before. Never had pre-teen sleepovers that led to innocent exploring. Never touched another man like he’s touching Hoseok right now. 

Hoseok unclenches his jaw from around his sweatshirt. 

“Like this,” he says, soft as the breeze, sliding his hands down and in between them. He wraps Yoongi’s hands around his cock and then has to suppress a full body shiver when Yoongi pumps him once, up and down, his hands catching on the head of Hoseok’s cock and making him whine out loud, a whine that he quickly bites back behind his teeth.

“Fuck,” Yoongi murmurs, his mouth nipping at the curve of Hoseok’s ear. “I wish you’d let me hear you.” 

“Studio. People. Thin walls,” Hoseok manages, before shoving the sweatshirt back in his mouth so he can whine and moan all he wants. He cants his hips, pushing his cock through the circle of Yoongi’s hands, speeding up when Yoongi tightens his fingers. It’s so much. It’s too much and he’s going to come and maybe that’s embarrassing but Yoongi is biting his chest and jerking him just right, just on this side of painful. Nice and dry, except for the pre-cum pooling at his tip, the pre-come that Yoongi is spreading down his cock, and oh god, oh _god_ \---

Hoseok grunts, moaning out his orgasm through the fabric filling his mouth, soft enough for only Yoongi to hear. They both gasp as Hoseok spills between them, hot spurts of come sliding between their hands. Yoongi groans, arching his back up, and then suddenly he’s flipping them over, so he’s on top and Hoseok is on his back still panting for air. 

“God,” Yoongi breathes, leaning in close to Hoseok’s mouth, covering his own cock in the slick from Hoseok’s orgasm as he begins to jerk himself off. “The things I want to do to you—You don’t even—“

“I know,” Hoseok says. He licks his lips. Yoongi is so close, _so close_ , but Hoseok doesn’t need to be rejected again. If Yoongi wants to kiss him, he can kiss him. Otherwise, Hoseok knows a line when he sees one. 

“You like having your mouth full when you come, don’t you,” Yoongi murmurs. Hoseok whines in agreement, unable to take his eyes away from Yoongi’s hand over his pretty, pretty cock. 

Yoongi’s eyes glint with intention and then he’s leaning on his elbow, jerking himself hard and pressing two fingers to Hoseok’s lips. Hoseok licks them carefully, making sure that no spot is left dry before he finally allows Yoongi to press them inside. 

This part, Hoseok has definitely done before. He makes sure to suck them hard, bobbing his head slightly, giving no doubt as to what he’s pantomiming. Yoongi makes a choking noise. Hoseok knows he’s almost beyond the point of no return, and he’s rewarded for his efforts when Yoongi slumps down on him, spilling thick and hot over Hoseok’s stomach. 

“So I guess we’re doing this,” Hoseok mumbles, after they’ve both caught their breath. 

Yoongi peers up at him, his head resting on Hoseok’s chest as he traces one of the scratches he’s left. As he revels in the marks and the bruises, as though he needed to claim and mark Hoseok as much as possible. 

Hoseok has no idea what he’s going to do about them. He doesn’t really care. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi says softly, after a long moment. He still looks shell-shocked. Hoseok suspects it will take him a while to come down. They are jumping off a cliff together, hands clasped tight, and there are no answers as to where they’ll land. “I guess we are.”


	5. Chapter 5

"There are so many places to hurt you," Yoongi murmurs one night, teeth scraping over the jut of Hoseok's hipbone. Hoseok gasps, pushing up for more. Yoongi's palm presses down on his stomach, holding him in place, keeping him here, in the flesh and in in the moment. 

"I know," Hoseok says, swallowing hard. "That's the fun part." 

" _So_ many places," Yoongi says, glancing up through his eyelashes as he moves his mouth lower and lower. He looks drugged, drunk in a way that Hoseok recognizes, high on spit and endorphins. 

"I told you, that's the fun part," Hoseok repeats, shoving the cuff of his sweatshirt into his mouth, balling the fabric up around his tongue so he doesn't make too much noise. He can't help that he's loud. 

They're not--they're not having sex, not really, not in any way that Hoseok can recognize and describe it. They haven't kissed and they aren't fucking but Hoseok still doesn't want to explain why there are scratches on his spine and fingerprint bruises on his calves. 

He doesn't want to talk about the way that Yoongi now scrapes his teeth over thin flesh and hums in pleasure as Hoseok moans.

\--

Yoongi likes to curl his fingers around Hoseok's throat, both when they're alone (hard, tight, ragged fingernails scraping skin) and when they're with the others (the trail of soft hands over delicate places). Yoongi likes to mark Hoseok up as much as possible, likes to bite and pull the skin between his teeth and then admire the fruits of his labor. He likes to press Hoseok into things and against things. He likes it when they have to keep quiet and Hoseok's body shakes from the strain. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Yoongi asks one night, Hoseok splayed out underneath him, stomach on the bed and the back of his neck exposed. Yoongi's breath is hot in his ear as he leaves a mark on the curve of Hoseok's shoulder. His erection is nestled between the curves of Hoseok's ass.

"Yes," Hoseok whimpers, trying not to rut backwards against the pressure on his ass and thighs. His own cock is catching on the elastic of his underwear and soaking a patch through the thin cotton fabric. He's so painfully hard and Yoongi's mouth is so warm but Hoseok doesn't want to test their limits and send Yoongi running away. 

Yoongi sighs, soft and pleased, and then he's sitting up and his hand is suddenly firm between Hoseok's shoulder blades as he rolls his hips, deliberate and slow. "Do you want more?"

Hoseok moans, a hiccupy noise that gets lost somewhere in their pile of blankets and pillows. He rolls his his hips backwards, only to be shoved back down by Yoongi's palm on his back. 

"Aah, ah," Yoongi's voice is soft. Teasing. "Say it." 

"Fuck," Hoseok murmurs. He hides his face in the curve of his elbow even as he feels the scrape of Yoongi's nails against his larynx. 

"Tell me you want this," Yoongi says, and his voice is gentler this time. His hand is wrapped around Hoseok's neck and it's so much. Maybe too much, but Hoseok has never been one to quit while he's ahead. 

"I want it," Hoseok gasps out. He arches his neck, his mouth falling open when Yoongi squeezes--hard--and then releases his hand. Hoseok's lungs swell with air and Yoongi's palm between his shoulderblades is gone and now Yoongi's hands around Hoseok's neck are gentle, stroking and petting. Hoseok whimpers, desperate and overwhelmed.

"Tell me one more time," Yoongi says, and his voice is low and syrupy-sweet, even as he's shoving his sweatpants down with one hand. "While I'm not choking you, I mean." 

"Fucking--jesus, yes, just get on with it," Hoseok says, and Yoongi laughs. He pulls Hoseok's underwear down and Hoseok doesn't know, he _doesn't know_ where this is going but he trusts Yoongi not to fuck it up. 

"I want to come all over your ass," Yoongi murmurs, even as he's sliding his cock back between Hoseok's asscheeks and spitting on his own hand to slick himself up. "God, is this really supposed to make me feel like this? Choking you, biting you?”

"Sometimes," Hoseok breathes out, even though he feels like the answer is obvious, has been obvious since the first time he'd felt the warmth of Yoongi's erection pushing up against the thin fabric between them. 

Hoseok groans, arching his back and pressing up against Yoongi's cock. The slide of skin on skin is heady and addictive. Yoongi's cock feels thick and wet and Hoseok shoves a hand down in between his body and the sheets, intent on finding his own release. 

Yoongi bites the back of Hoseok's neck when he comes, shooting hot and wet into the small of Hoseok's back. Hoseok whimpers, thrusting awkwardly into the tight circle of his fingers. Yoongi is heavy on his back and everything is crushed beneath him. Hoseok's balls are pulled back between his thighs and every slight thrust brings more friction, more heat against the bedsheets and the curl of his hand.

"Shhh," Yoongi croons, one hand slipping in his own come as he raises his weight off of Hoseok's back. Yoongi wraps one hand around Hoseok's hip, guiding him up even as he presses his wet fingers to Hoseok's open mouth and smears them across Hoseok's lower lip.

Hoseok's moans are hiccupy and rough, staccato beats punctuated by a long, drawn out cry when Yoongi simultaneously wraps his palm around the head of Hoseok's dick and presses his wet fingers inside Hoseok's mouth. Hoseok comes loud and desperate, his hips jerking out his release as he moans around Yoongi's fingers. All he can taste and all he can smell is the sharp, acrid smell of come. It shouldn't be as much of a turn-on as it is. 

Yoongi flops down next to him with a groan, still panting from his own orgasm. He wipes his hand on Hoseok's ruined sheets. Hoseok opens his mouth to ask for tissues, a dirty sock-- anything that will allow him to move without spilling the pile of come on his back--but Yoongi is already pressing a pile of napkins into his hand. 

Hoseok is foggy enough not to question it until they've finished cleaning themselves up, but then he frowns. "Where are these from?"

Yoongi points to Taehyung's bunk, and the empty McDonald's bag next to it. 

"Oh, fucking--ew," Hoseok says, starting to laugh as he throws his wad of napkins in Yoongi's direction. "You're disgusting."

"Hey, I was improvising," Yoongi says. His smirk is pleased and self-satisfied, and Hoseok knows he's talking about more than just the tissues.

"I noticed." Hoseok says. "When is everyone coming back?"

Yoongi rummages below the bed for his phone. "Forty-five minutes," he says, tapping at the screen. His dick is soft and pink between his thighs. Hoseok wishes he could stop staring. 

"We need to shower," he says, instead of _can we do that again_.

"I know we do," Yoongi says. He sits up, resting his chin on Hoseok's shoulder and looking suddenly serious. "But hey, hey. Improvisation. Good, right? it was good?" 

Hoseok laughs. "Yeah," he says, pressing two fingers against Yoongi's forehead and trying not to sound too fond. Yoongi smiles, showing all of his teeth. "Yeah, it was good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really more like Chapter 4.5, and it's done, so I figured I might as well go ahead and post it. 
> 
> OKAY okay no more free porn after this, everyone get back to work :P
> 
> (ps I love all of you ♡)


	6. Chapter 6

"Hyung, do you want another?" 

They're seated at an outdoor picnic table, bored and lazy, breaking for lunch and eating greasy take-out while the crew sets up another few shots and the wardrobe noonas prepare yet another set of outfits for this photoshoot. Jimin is leaning over the table in front of them, the remains of his lunch balanced precariously in one hand and Yoongi's empty soda can in another. 

"Yah," Yoongi grunts, caught in the act of chewing. Jimin smiles and the lines around his eyes deepen and crinkle. This is the second day they've spent outdoors, and he's already tan. The makeup noonas are annoyed because suddenly he's gone from a 1 to a 3 in foundation and bb cream. 

"Another Coke?"

"Diet Coke," Yoongi says, nodding as Jimin grins and goes to throw away his trash. Hoseok watches him go and picks at the remains of his kimbap with his chopsticks. He thinks about Jimin and how much Yoongi likes to spoil him. Indulge him. How Yoongi likes to sit around and play with his hair because he knows it annoys him. 

How Hoseok occasionally catches a glimpse of a smile and knows that Jimin isn't really annoyed. 

Hoseok wants to bring it up but he's not sure how, so all he says is, "Jimin's gotten really tan." 

"Mmm," Yoongi says. He wipes his mouth with his napkin. "He told me he's gotten yelled at 3 times this morning for not staying in the shade." 

Hoseok shrugs. "I think it looks good." 

"It does," Yoongi says. "I don't understand why they want him to be so pale. It doesn't suit him. He looks better like this." 

Jimin returns with more kimbap for Hoseok and another soda for Yoongi. Yoongi reaches over the table and ruffles his hair, and Jimin bats his hand away, looking pleased. "You're so good to your hyungs," Yoongi says. "Kookie should follow your example more often." 

"Kookie doesn't follow anyone's example," Hoseok says, laughing. "If there's a mountain in front of him and a path to the side, you know he'll climb the mountain just to prove he can."

"He's stubborn," Jimin agrees, swigging from his own bottle of water. The outside perspiration runs down the sides of his hands, dripping onto the table. One single drop traces a meandering path down the inside of his wrist as he raises his hand to drink. "But that's why he's so good." His voice is wistful.

"Hey, don't pout," Yoongi says, reaching over to Hoseok's plate. He picks up a piece of kimbap off Hoseok's plate and waves it at Jimin. "You know hyung loves you best."

Jimin shakes his head. "I need to practice more," he says, looking down at the table. 

"Then you'll need the energy," Yoongi says, pushing the piece of kimbap towards Jimin's lips. "Eat it." 

"No," Jimin laughs. "Hyung, I'm full."

"Your muscles need energy," Yoongi says. "Yah, eat it!" Hoseok watches with a smile as the conversation turns into a scuffle, with Yoongi eventually sitting on Jimin's stomach to hold him down while he feeds him the kimbap. 

"Hobi hyungggggg," Jimin says pitifully, looking over at Hoseok. "Why didn't you help? Now he's crushing me."

"I'm not getting in between the two of you," Hoseok says. 

"Ugh," Jimin says, letting his head fall back on the picnic bench, admitting defeat. 

"This is what happens when you're my favorite," Yoongi says, grinning wide and pleased as he sits on Jimin's stomach. He tweaks Jimin's nose affectionately. "You have to face the consequences of my love." 

\--

Yoongi's fingers are wrapped around Hoseok's throat lightly, a gentle caress. Hoseok is tired and sweaty and still coming down. They'd decided-- _Yoongi_ had decided--that Yoongi was getting off first and Hoseok would just have to wait his turn. 

Yoongi hums when Hoseok turns to face him, a pleased noise that he follows with a brush of a thumb against Hoseok's collarbone. It's both sweet and possessive, and maybe that's what helps Hoseok's words spill out into the silence between them. 

"If Jiminnie kissed you, would you kiss him back?"

"What?" Yoongi frowns, shifting, drawing his hand away. He pushes his sweaty bangs off his forehead. "Why would he do that?"

Hoseok swallows. He considers telling Yoongi to just ignore him, but he's already said the words and he might as well keep going. 

"I don't know. I'm just asking. Would you kiss him back?"

Yoongi laughs, loudly and unexpectedly. 

"No," Yoongi says, running a hand through his hair. He grins. "That would be super gay." 

"Uh," Hoseok says. He raises an eyebrow at Yoongi, giving him his best what the fuck? expression. They're lying here in a pile of sweat and come. Hoseok doesn't think he needs to point out the obvious. 

"It's different with you," Yoongi says, rolling over onto his back. "It's like that part of it just kind of happens, okay?" 

Hoseok sighs. 

"I would really like it if you would kiss me," he says quietly. "Even if it's gay." 

Yoongi bites his lip. "But I like girls," he says. "I really like pussy, okay. It's awesome. It's the best thing ever." 

"I like pussy too," Hoseok says. He scrubs a hand over his face. Goddammit. "That has nothing to do with this. People can be more than one thing. You're just--nevermind." Hoseok shakes his head, sitting up and brushing himself off. He should have known not to press the issue. 

"Wait," Yoongi says. He places his hand on Hoseok's arm. "Where are you going? Are you mad?" 

"I'm not mad," Hoseok says, even though he is. "It's fine." He pulls away again and stands up, only to have Yoongi grab his hand and pull him back down. 

"You really want me to do that?" Yoongi says. He looks confused. 

"Just forget about it." 

"No," Yoongi says. "No, come here, I'm not forgetting about it." 

"Hyung, I'm taking a shower," Hoseok says. "Everyone will be back soon. We need to clean up." 

"I didn't know you wanted me to kiss you," Yoongi says. 

"I bet you didn't know you wanted to kiss Jimin, either," Hoseok says tiredly, tugging his arm away. "But you do." 

"Hobi!" 

Hoseok ignores him, walking quickly to the bathroom and then locking the door behind him. Then he leans up against the door and sighs. 

"Idiot," he says softly. 

He's not sure if he's talking to himself, or to Yoongi. He's not sure it even matters.


	7. Chapter 7

Jung Hoseok does not get jealous. 

Hoseok tells himself this over and over in the shower, repeating it like a mantra. It's not who he _is_. Jealousy isn't happy. It's rough and sharp-edged and painful and Hoseok doesn't like this feeling, not even a little bit. He doesn't feel like he scored a victory, or like he's managed to inflict a vicious wound. He just wishes Yoongi was less of an idiot and also that he'd never even opened his mouth. 

He's fine by the time the rest of the guys get back, and he's fine at practice, and he's fine later on, well into the night, joking and laughing with everyone as usual. 

Yoongi is silent and sullen. Hoseok lets him be. 

\--

"I don't want to kiss Jiminnie," Yoongi says. 

Hoseok jerks his head up, knocking it on the frame of the convenience store shelf and dumping instant rameyeon all over the floor. 

"Seriously?" Hoseok says, starting to laugh helplessly. "Seriously. You want to talk about this _here_?"

"You haven't been alone for three days," Yoongi says, frowning at him as he starts to pick up the piles of rameyeon. The store owner looks down the aisle, frowning at them, and they apologize profusely and sincerely as they clean up the mess. 

"You could have just asked me," Hoseok says, shaking his head as he stacks the rameyeon cups back in neat piles. "Do you think Namjoonie wants shrimp or kimchi flavor?"

"Namjoonie eats everything," Yoongi replies carelessly. He's closer now, whispering softly. "And you were, like. You were mad at me." 

"I'm not mad at you," Hoseok says. He tries out a bright, sincere smile, and hopes it works. "I told you that before. It's okay." 

"This is the one Jiminnie likes," Yoongi says, grabbing two packets of Neoguri. "But I mean it. I don't want to kiss Jiminnie." 

"I get it," Hoseok says, putting another two cups in his cart for the maknae and Taehyung. "You don't want to kiss anyone." 

"I'll--" Yoongi looks down at his feet, jittering his leg nervously and readjusting his hat. His tiny tells that he's scared, that he's afraid, that he doesn't like what's going on. Hoseok wishes he didn't know all of them. "I'll kiss you. If. If that's what you want."

"It's not about what I want," Hoseok says, standing up. Their voices are still low and hushed, a soft murmur of syllables. "It's about what you want." 

"But--"

"We should go buy energy drinks, too," Hoseok says, pointing across the store. "Tonight's going to be a long night." 

Yoongi nods down at the floor, shoving his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts. "Yeah. I know." 

Hoseok yawns, and then winces, because if he's yawning already, that's not a good sign. It's only midnight. Definitely time for some sugar and caffeine. 

"Drinks," Hoseok says, pulling Yoongi across the tiny store. "We need drinks before I fall asleep on my feet. Help me pick them out." 

"Hyung likes this one," Yoongi says, putting Seokjin's favorite sujeonggwa-flavored soda into the cart. "Will you, um. Do you think you'll need me to...rub your shoulders out?"

Hoseok inhales. He bites his lip and considers all that's being offered and all that's being taken away and does he really want to do this? Is this how it begins, or is this how it ends? 

No.

No, Hoseok isn't giving up hope just yet. It's not who he is. 

"Maybe tomorrow," Hoseok says, smiling at Yoongi and dropping a can of cold instant coffee into their cart. "Ask me again tomorrow."

\--

"Taetae," Hoseok groans, his eyelids fluttering open at the sudden weight of one hundred and twenty pounds of teenaged boy on top of him. "Taetae, get off me" 

"Nope," Taehyung says, resting his chin on Hoseok's chest. Hoseok rubs his eyes, wondering what time it is. There's sunlight coming through the blinds, so it's definitely daytime. That's really all he knows. 

"Did I sleep too late?" Hoseok says, attempting to sit up. Taehyun grins, clinging to him like a koala over the blankets and saying nothing, and Hoseok gives up after a minute or so. 

"Do you just want hugs?" Hoseok says, because sometimes Taehyung is like that. Sometimes he just wants hugs. Hoseok doesn't mind, but he's also still foggy from sleeping and if Taehyung wants to cuddle the chances of Hoseok falling _back_ asleep are extremely high. 

"Nah," Taehyung says, after thinking about it for a moment. "I just wanted to know what it's like with Yoongi hyung. Are you guys like, in love?" 

Hoseok chokes on his own spit, coughing and sputtering. He looks around the dorm wildly but it's just him and Taehyung, although the door is open and he can hear sounds of life from outside. 

"Keep your voice down," Hoseok says, cupping his hand over Taehyung's mouth. "That's a secret, okay? Not a Taehyung secret that you save up to tell everyone at the right moment. A real Hobi-hyung secret." 

"Oh," Taehyung says. He shrugs. "Sorry. I didn't know."

"And it's not like anything with Yoongi," Hoseok says. "Because there's nothing going on." 

"You just said it was a secret!"

"It's complicated," Hoseok says. "This secret is complicated, okay?" He scratches the back of Taehyung's head, and Taehyung smiles, nuzzling into the touch. Sometimes Hoseok thinks Taehyung is just a large kitten in a human body, like one of those anime shows or something. Although he's pretty good at dancing for a kitten, so maybe not. 

"You like him, though," Taehyung says, softly but firmly. 

Hoseok tries to smile, to brush it off, but the smile on his face falls flat. Taehyung pokes him knowingly in the nose. "You do." 

"Aish," Hoseok murmurs, brushing away Taehyung's hand. "Taetae. I don't really want to talk about it." 

"Okay. But I know you guys are fucking. Just so you know."

"TAEHYUNG!" Hoseok hisses, his face heating up instantly, but Taehyung just laughs and jumps off of him. "I won't tell," Taehyung promises, nodding firmly. "It's a Hobi-hyung secret." 

"Oh my god," Hoseok says, "Will you please just go make breakfast or something?" 

Taehyung shrugs. "Okay," he says, wandering out to the kitchen.

Hoseok falls back against his pillow, and looks up at the bottom of Taehyung's bunk. Hoseok has covered it in posters and stickers; idols he likes, musicians he wants to emulate, pictures that he just thinks are cool. Each of them have a place to make their own space in their shared bedroom, but Hoseok has a bottom bunk so he'd chosen to make his right over his head. He wanted-- _wants_ \--to look up every morning and see things that inspire him to work hard and push himself further and to lift everyone else up with him. 

There's a few of their group photoshoots in one corner, torn out of magazines from when they first debuted and none of them could believe they were actually in _magazines_. Hoseok brushes his fingers over the image. Yoongi doesn't look much like himself in it. He looks handsome and flawless and fierce but Hoseok likes the Yoongi he knows better. He likes the Yoongi who cracks awful jokes and wakes up with terrible bedhead. The Yoongi shows him his private collections of photographs that he's taken. 

The Yoongi that knows how to push and pull Hoseok's body just right.

But none of that matters if their secret gets out. None of that matters because even if there are three people in Hoseok's life who know his secret and don't hate them--well, four now, apparently--they won't make up for the fall-out that could come. They can't protect Hoseok from the scandal of the fucking century. And it's not just about Hoseok; it's the idea that everything they've all worked so hard for could come crashing down in an instant. 

This isn't something they can joke around with. 

Hoseok shakes his head, scrubbing his fingertips over his jawline, and goes to find Taehyung and make _certain_ that Taehyung understands exactly how important it is that he keep his mouth shut.

\--

"How's your shoulder?" Yoongi asks, the next day during a lull in practice. 

"It's a little sore," Hoseok answers, deceptively light. "Maybe you could rub it out for me later?"

"Sure," Yoongi says. His face is impassive but his eyes light up and Hoseok knows he was right not to give up on Min Yoongi just yet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay :( Like I said, please be patient with this one. I have a chronic illness and when it flares up I can't write (or do anything, really). 
> 
> Two chapters this time, for your patience <3

Later that night--later, so much later--Yoongi's weight presses Hoseok down into the ancient cushions of their practice room couch as he licks and bites a searing trail up and down Hoseok's neck. 

"I thought you wanted to rub my shoulder out," Hoseok says, grinning and tilting his neck back so Yoongi can bite down harder. "Guess you wanted to rub something else out, instead." 

"It's all your fault," Yoongi murmurs, laughing against Hoseok's skin. "You're so distracting." 

"This is totally not in any way my--ah!--my fault," Hoseok replies, arching up into the sensation. Yoongi's mouth is hot against his neck. 

"I like that noise so much," Yoongi murmurs, as if he's talking to himself. He lifts himself up on his forearms, looking down at Hoseok with a confused, desperate expression. "I like---it's so stupid, I don't get it, I like _you_ so much."

"Gee, don't look so miserable about it," Hoseok laughs. "I like you too, you idiot." 

"No, I mean--" Yoongi huffs in frustration. "I want--" 

"Hmm?" Hoseok says, stilling and taking a moment to shove his bangs out of his eyes. Yoongi had knocked Hoseok's hat off when he'd basically tackled him onto the couch as soon as the door had closed behind Seokjin. 

"I want this," Yoongi murmurs, leaning down slowly. So slowly, so hesitantly, and Hoseok feels like all of the breath has been sucked from his lungs, from the room, from the entire universe. He wasn't expecting this. Not now, not this soon. He thought they'd have to work up to it, that Yoongi still obviously had his own shit to work out, his own neuroses to overcome--

Yoongi brushes his lips over Hoseok's mouth, dry and chaste.

Hoseok keeps holding his breath, gaze flicking up to look at Yoongi through his eyelashes. They're so close that all Hoseok can see is a familiar blur and Hoseok wonders what would happen if he kissed back, if he opened his mouth, if he--

If, if if. 

"God," Yoongi whispers, and then he's kissing Hoseok sharp and rough, tongue slipping between Hoseok's lips, teeth nipping and biting down, his hands coming up to hold Hoseok's head in place. Hoseok moans into Yoongi's mouth, suddenly able to breathe again. He shoves Yoongi's snapback off and fists two hands in Yoongi's hair, pulling him closer. 

"You're--" Hoseok manages, through bruising kisses and tiny gasps. "You're a good kisser." 

"So are you," Yoongi mumbles, his thumbs tracing over the arches of Hoseok's cheekbones as he holds Hoseok down, in place, holds Hoseok where he wants him and exactly where Hoseok wants to be. "Your mouth, god, your mouth--"

Hoseok nods, groaning when Yoongi moves back down to his neck. He doesn't know how he's going to explain the marks tomorrow but he doesn't care, doesn't give one single fuck because Yoongi is biting him and grinding his hips down and all of the pent-up energy of the past week is suddenly building between them. 

"You can't--ah," Hoseok says, groaning as Yoongi bites down. "Stop it, you cant leave so many marks, there's only so many ways I can explain them away." 

"Sorry," Yoongi breathes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, you're just--"

"Yeah," Hoseok says. He doesn't know what Yoongi isn't saying but he can make a good guess. He doesn't want to upset whatever delicate balance of desire and terror is driving Yoongi to do this right now. "We have to be quick. They're going to notice if we don't go back soon." 

"I can be quick," Yoongi says, licking his way into Hoseok's mouth again, pressing their hips together like he's on fire, like they're both seventeen and a bundle of nerves and hormones. 

"Just let me--" Hoseok manages, fumbling a hand between the two of them. He's never done this. In all the ways this thing has happened, this strange thing between them that is only barely beginning to have a name, he's never touched Yoongi like this. Yoongi has never let him do this, has never asked for it, never suggested it, even if he was the one wrapping his fingers around Hoseok's cock.

Yoongi presses into Hoseok's hand. A small whine falls from his lips and Hoseok drinks it up greedily, palming the shape of Yoongi's cock, enjoying the heat and the warmth and the way Yoongi is suddenly even more desperate. 

Yoongi reaches down, tugging his sweatpants past his hips as Hoseok does the same with Yoongi's boxer briefs. He reaches behind him blindly, throwing his sweatshirt over Yoongi's body just to cover up the skin. There will be more to worry about than Yoongi's naked ass if anyone walks in on them right now, but Hoseok wants to savour the feeling of all this skin suddenly exposed to him. 

"God," Yoongi breathes out, pressing his face into Hoseok's shoulder when Hoseok finally wraps his hands around him. Two hands, because they don't have time to fuck around. Hoseok presses his fingertips against the tip of Yoongi's cock, enjoying the slide. Yoongi is slick and dripping with pre-come and when Hoseok looks down between them he can just barely make out the shape of Yoongi's cock in the half-light. 

Hoseok palms him, rubs everywhere he can touch, jerks him Yoongi with his fingers clasped together because he knows how good it feels to rut into that warm heat. He has to pull back more than once to spit on his palms and every time he does Yoongi moans again, small and private. A silent plea for Hoseok to keep going. 

Yoongi comes quick and hot into Hoseok's palms and Hoseok feels a moment of strange pride at the way he's caught most of it between his cupped palms. Now he's stuck with two hands full of jizz, but at least they won't have to explain away any tell-tale stains. 

"Fuck," Yoongi pants, looking at Hoseok with wide eyes, his mouth slick and kiss-red. "Fuck, fuck, where did you even learn how to--"

"I need tissues," Hoseok says, because seriously. " My hands are full of jizz." He's all for pillow talk but this is kind of a problem.

"Fuck," Yoongi says, and then he's pulling his pants up, grimacing at the feeling but dashing across the room to where they keep things like extra water bottles and paper towels and chopsticks for take-out and energy drinks. He comes back and wipes down Hoseok's hands and Hoseok leans his head back against the couch, suddenly tired. He's still hard and wanting but right now he just feels like getting it over with, like taking matters into his own hands so he can go home and lie in bed and figure out what the hell just happened. 

"Ah, I'm just going to jerk off," Hoseok whispers, shoving his pants and his underwear down and wrapping his fingers around his cock. "It's faster." 

"Don't let me stop you," Yoongi murmurs, his eyes curling at the corners as he smiles. His gaze flickers up and down Hoseok's body, from the curves of his collarbones to the dark hair between his legs. He licks his lips, looking suddenly thoughtful.

"I'mgoingtotrysomething," Yoongi says, all at once, so fast and so thick that Hoseok barely catches it. He's just about to ask what's going on before he feels the heat of Yoongi's mouth around the head of his cock. Hoseok groans, his back bowing up, his hips thrusting, suddenly helpless. He's going to come and there's nothing he can do to stop it and fuck, he's going to come _now_ , while Yoongi's tongue is hesitantly licking the slit of his cock, while Yoongi's eyes are dark and interested and watching him so closely and--

"Shit," Yoongi chokes, jerking backwards in surprise, spitting Hoseok's come into his hand. 

"Sorry," Hoseok gasps. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't have time to warn you, it just--"

"Ugh," Yoongi says, looking down at his hand. "This tastes super gross. How do girls always swallow in porn?"

Hoseok manages a smile, his chest still heaving. "You push it to the back of your throat," he says. "Then you don't taste it as much." 

"Oh yeah?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him as he wipes his hand off. "And how do you know that?"

"Some other time," Hoseok says. "I'll tell you some other time. Not now." 

Yoongi nods. "Seriously, though," he says. "Why didn't you tell me this shit was so gross? I wouldn't have like, made you--"

Hoseok laughs. "I don't think it tastes gross," he admits, sitting up and trying to get his clothing in some sort of order. "I mean. I don't know. It doesn't bother me, I guess." 

"Uh-huh," Yoongi says. He looks doubtful. 

"If you want to do that again, we'll just use a condom," Hoseok says. "Then my dick will taste like strawberries and I won't offend your delicate sensibilities." 

Yoongi snorts in amusement. "Maybe," he says. "I don't know." 

"Okay," Hoseok says. He wonders if they just had sex. Like, _real_ sex, the kind where it wasn't just about the sensations, except that Hoseok is pretty sure that kissing isn't required for sex so he doesn't know how to explain how this is different. 

Yoongi looks away, clearing his throat. "We should, uh, try that again sometime, though," he says, trying to sound disinterested. 

Hoseok tries not to smile. Tries to play it cool, like Yoongi's words didn't just twist inside his heart and make everything fluttery and soft. 

"Yeah," Hoseok says. "We should."


	9. Chapter 9

Hoseok's older sister has known about him since Hoseok was 16 and forgot to close the door of his bedroom one afternoon after school. Hoseok still remembers everything about that afternoon in perfect detail; the way the raindrops had slid down the panes of his windows, the smell of his mom's laundry detergent, the way Yoonho's mouth had tasted like brown sugar and cinnamon from the _hotteok_ they'd shared on the way home. The thrilling, exhilarating feeling of breaking too many rules to count and the way his stomach had turned to ice when Eunah had opened the door. 

Eunah hadn't exactly been thrilled about it, but in all the years since then, she's never turned Hoseok away. She's never told their parents or asked Hoseok to accept Jesus into his heart and atone for his sins. 

Hoseok has Eunah, and even with his sister silently supporting him, it had taken him years to overcome the guilt and self-hatred. There are still days when Hoseok forgets--forgets that he's forgiven himself for something he can't control, forgets that he's not worried about the judgement of a God he doesn't believe in. There are days when Hoseok doesn't touch Yoongi at all, even to say hello, because it makes him feel sick inside. 

There's no way that Yoongi has gotten over all of this in three days. 

Hoseok doesn't know what to do, really, so he falls back on old routines. He's too loud and too playful with the maknaes, too excitable on camera, _too much_ , too much. Their PDnims eat it up, like they always do, but the rest of the group keeps giving him concerned looks when the cameras are off. 

\--

"Hey," Yoongi says, walking into the studio and slapping the lights on, scaring the bejeezus out of Hoseok at 5am, when everyone else should be sleeping. "What's wrong with you? Why are you still here?"

"Why are you still here?" Hoseok says, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. Christ. He'd been practicing with the lights on low, working their choreography with his eyes closed, trying to feel the spaces in between each count in the near-silence. 

"Mixing," Yoongi says, rubbing his eyes. He looks tired, glassy stare and deep circles, knitted hat pulled down low enough that only a slight fringe of hair peeks out. "But I can't see straight anymore, so I was going to nap in here for an hour." 

"You can nap," Hoseok says, shaking his shoulders out and then rolling his back. "Just turn the lights back off. I wasn't using them anyway."

"I know," Yoongi says, looking tired and confused and so, so young, his face scrunched up into an expression that Hoseok might call adorable, if his hyung wouldn't punch him for it. "What are you even doing? Who practices with the lights off?"

"I do," Hoseok says. "It helps me feel the movements and know when I'm out of place. It's a body sensation thing."

Yoongi just blinks at him tiredly through the mirror, already falling onto their worn couch. Hoseok walks over and dims the lights again. He pretends that nothing has ever happened between them on that couch, that he has never kissed Yoongi there, that this is nothing but a normal situation between friends. This is nothing but Yoongi keeping him company. 

Hoseok runs through a new piece he's working on three--four--five times, correcting it slightly as he goes, feeling the motions settle down into his bones. On the sixth run-through, he opens his eyes to see Yoongi watching him. 

"I thought you were sleeping," Hoseok says, dropping to the floor for a 10 minute break. His tone comes out fond without his permission. 

"I am," Yoongi says. He yawns, long and loud. "I like watching you, though. Almost more than I like sleeping." 

"Aish," Hoseok mutters, at nothing and everything. "Don't say stuff like that. You're terrible." 

"Why not?" Yoongi frowns. "Come over here. It's easier to talk when you're closer."

"I'm all sweaty."

"Which has never happened before in the history of the world," Yoongi intones solemnly. Hoseok laughs despite himself. He moves to sit with his back against the couch, staring out into the endless depths of the wall-to-wall mirrors. 

"I fucked it up, didn't I," Yoongi says softly. His arms are pillowed behind his head and his eyes are closed but Yoongi is anything but sleepy.

Hoseok lets out a sigh. "No," he says. "It's fine. You didn't fuck anything up." 

"If I didn't fuck it up, why aren't you climbing up here and joining me?" 

Hoseok bites his lip. 

"No one gets over this kind of stuff in three days," he says, pressing his lips together. "I just--don't want to make it worse." 

"You're not making it worse," Yoongi says. "And fuck you, you think I'm over this?" Yoongi rolls on his side, giving Hoseok an incredulous look. "We made out. _We made out, okay_ , and I _sucked your dick_ and I _wanted_ to suck your dick and I don't know if that makes it better or worse or what the fuck is going on or why I even like you or--" Yoongi falls silent, his jaw working as he tries to find the words.

"I am in no way okay," Yoongi says finally, voice just a hair above a whisper. "Not in any sense of the word. But we have a job to do."

Hoseok nods slowly. "I was wondering what you were working on that was so urgent."

"Nothing," Yoongi says, laughing, short and sharp. "Absolutely fucking nothing. But it's better than lying in bed at the dorm and freaking out." 

Hoseok nods. He brushes his shoulder against the back of Yoongi's hand and then Yoongi is sitting up, tugging on Hoseok's fingers until their pinkies are clasped loosely together. 

"You got me into this mess," Yoongi says, his voice dry but a hint of normal Yoongi hidden in the upward curve of his eyes. "Don't just leave when shit gets hard. "

"I won't," Hoseok says, feeling indescribably guilty all of a sudden. He hadn't meant to drop Yoongi on his own. He'd just thought that there was no way he could help. Not when he was the source of the problem. "I didn't mean to." 

Yoongi traces a line over the back of Hoseok's hand with his thumb. He purses his lips in a quick, familiar movement, and then he shrugs, rolling over onto his side, facing away from the room.

"Then come up here and keep me warm," Yoongi says, his voice muffled by the way his face is pressed into the pillows. "It's fucking balls-ass cold in here when we're not dancing." 

Hoseok snorts in amusement. He reaches over to grab a towel from the floor and wipe himself down and then crawls onto the couch, wrapping his free arm around Yoongi's middle. 

"Don't get used to this," Yoongi slurs, already most of the way back to sleep. "From now on, I'm th' big spoon. If one of us has to be th' girl, it's you." 

Hoseok resists the urge to just give up and knock his forehead into the back of Yoongi's head. "Go to sleep hyung," he says, pinching Yoongi's stomach. Yoongi whines, pouting and slapping at Hoseok's hand like a little kid. "We all know your dick is huge and you're the manliest man who ever lived. Just go to sleep." 

"Massive," Yoongi mutters. "Bigger than that stupid fuckin' giant-ass duck in Jamsil." 

Hoseok noses at the back of Yoongi's neck, trying not to laugh. "Mmm," he says. "If you say so, hyung."


	10. Chapter 10

Their comeback looms larger with each passing day. There are endless hours of practice, of fixing bad takes, of production decisions that keep rap line up for three nights running. Namjoon has taken to sleeping in the closet where they store all of the company-owned clothing between comebacks, pulling his long body into a tiny ball so he can hide from their manager hyungs. 

Yoongi doesn't bother with closets; he just sleeps in the spare chair in the production room with his headphones on, his neck cracked backwards at an angle, mouth open. Usually drooling. Hoseok would find it funny if he wasn't doing the same thing every time they switched shifts for another playback session. Their singles are done, but there are so many other tracks to complete that Hoseok honestly isn't sure if they'll make their deadline.

Everything comes abruptly to a halt once the summer tour season hits. Hoseok hasn't looked at their itinerary in detail but he knows the vague outlines; a red-eye 2-night trip to Moscow, then back and forth between Japan and Korea for two weeks, followed by a week hitting Germany, Sweden, and France in quick succession before flying back home for their Korean summer comeback. It's something like that. Hoseok isn't clear on the details. All he knows is that he's on a plane to Russia and none of them speak a word of Russian and Namjoon is snoring on Jin's shoulder and Jungkook's foot is somehow hooked around Hoseok's knee. 

"Zdravstvuyte," Taehyung mumbles sleepily, somewhere close to Hoseok's ear. 

Hoseok frowns, turning towards him. "Wha?"

"It's how you say hello in Russian," Taehyung yawns, covering his mouth with one hand. He presses the play button on his phone again and they listen in silence as a female voice pronounces the word and the Cyrillic letters flash onto the screen. 

Hoseok stares at the unfamiliar characters and winces. He can barely read the most basic words in Japanese and English, although his conversational skills have been improving by leaps and bounds. He's not sure he has time to memorize another alphabet on minus-twenty-six hours of sleep and counting. 

"Show me that again when we land," Hoseok mumbles, tucking himself into Taehyung's shoulder. "I want to be able to say it to the fans at the airport. If we even have any fans in Russia." Taehyung hums in agreement, snuggling closer to Hoseok and petting the top of his head for a moment. 

"Worry about it later," Taehyung says, covering them both with a blanket. "Snuggle time now." 

Hoseok means to reply, he really does, but he's already fast asleep by the time Taehyung has finished his sentence.

\--

Hoseok wakes up almost 8 hours later to a pile of snacks stuffed into the seat in front of him ("You were asleep when they fed us, hyung, but I told them you had a severe medical condition and you would suffer greatly without a steady supply of rice crackers.") and the rest of his band bemoaning the state of their faces. 

"I hate flying," Seokjin groans, pressing his palms against his cheeks and trying to wiggle them back and forth. "Ugh, I'm so puffy." 

"You're so puffy? I look like a goddamn rabbit," Jungkook mutters, glaring into his phone as he tries to fix his cowlick. "I'm breaking out, too. Yah, who has the fucking BB Cream?" 

Hoseok grins in amusement as he sees a small tube of makeup sail over Jungkook's head and land in his lap. Jungkook immediately looks sheepish, turning around and apologizing profusely to their senior makeup hyung in a much more formal tone. 

"You slept through dinner and breakfast," Taehyung says, with a large yawn.

"I needed it," Hoseok says, reaching forward for one of the pilfered bags of crackers. "Did you manage to stash away any coffee?"

"No, but Namjoon hyung has a few cans," Taehyung says. Hoseok nods, dumping the last of the crackers into his open mouth, and standing up to stretch. He squeezes himself over to the other side of the plane, ignoring the complaints from Jimin and Yoongi and making sure to wave his ass in Jungkook's face. 

"Hi princess," Namjoon says, blinking tiredly at him and giving Hoseok a dimpled smile. His bleach-blond hair is limp and flopped over to one side. "How was your nap? Did you enjoy sleeping for a thousand years?"

"You don't even know," Hoseok says. "I feel like someone recharged my batteries." 

"There's a sex joke in there somewhere," Seokjin says, now occupied with rubbing some sort of cold cream on his skin. "But I'm too tired to think it up right now." 

"I'll recharge your batteries," Namjoon says mildly. 

"Taetae said you had coffee," Hoseok says, pouting at Namjoon with all the aegyo he can muster. "Can I have some? I slept through all the meals." 

"I knew you didn't come over here just to compliment me on my excellent airport fashion," Namjoon says, fishing a can out of his bag. 

Hoseok pops the cap open and takes a long swig, and then gives Namjoon's outfit a critical eye. "But I haven't complimented your airport fashion."

"Yeah, and that was your cue, dumbass," Namjoon says, turning back to his laptop. "But I'll forgive you and let you keep the coffee if you tweet something about how hot I am." 

"Done," Hoseok agrees. "Did you take any selcas this morning? Send them to me and I'll post about what a cool guy~ you are." 

"Sweet," Namjoon says, bumping their fists together. "Thanks." 

"Anything for Namjoon-oppppaaaaaaa," Hoseok coos, ruffling Namjoon's floppy mohawk. "And also coffee."

"Mostly coffee," Jin agrees, yelping and dodging Namjoon's elbow when Namjoon turns to elbow him in the face. "Definitely mostly coffee." 

\--

Hoseok and Yoongi are sharing a suitcase but that's nothing new; by now he expects to be rooming with at least 2 other people, the four of them crammed into some closet-sized room in Shibuya, but Manager hyung hands Yoongi a single room key and shrugs. "Don't ask," he says, handing out the rest of the room keys to the band, who are reacting with similarly awestruck faces and cradling them as though they are made of precious gold "Somehow it was cheaper this way. Don't get too excited yet, though. I think they might be _actual_ closets." 

"I don't even care," Yoongi mumbles, leading the way towards the elevators as the uniformed staff follows with their overpacked luggage carts. "If it has a mattress, I'm good. Hell, even if it _doesn't_ have a mattress, I'm good." 

"I just don't want to sleep in the shower," Jungkook agrees, giving Jimin and Taehyung a suspicious look. "You guys wouldn't make me do that. Right?"

"Depends on how big the shower is," Taehyung says thoughtfully, while Jimin is busy reassuring Jungkook that no, of course not, they would never do something like that. 

Yoongi and Hoseok's room is, as expected, the size of either a very small bedroom, or a very large bathroom. The hotel has made a painfully obvious attempt at modernity and installed an overwhelming amount of chrome fixtures everywhere, as well as replaced the bathroom wall with _clear glass_. Hoseok is stuck in the narrow hallway trying to step over their suitcases when Yoongi sees it and bursts out laughing, darting inside to run his hands over the smooth surface.

"Fuck," Yoongi says, still giggling. "I guess they assume you're pretty close to your travel companions." 

"Oh my god," Hoseok says, following him inside the tiny space. "And there seriously isn't a curtain, or--there's just a shower head, and that glass--?"

"Maybe it fogs up when you shower?" Yoongi says, still trying to hold in incredulous laughter. 

"Yeah, okay, but what about when you take a _shit_?" Hoseok says, before his mouth can catch up with his brain, and just as the hotel phone starts ringing. Yoongi loses it, cracking up while leaning up against the singular bathroom wall, and Hoseok is stuck with trying to climb around their bed and luggage to reach the damn phone.

"Hello?" he says, just in case it's someone he needs to be polite to.

"We're switching," Seokjin says, in a no-nonsense-I'm-your-hyung sort of tone. "We don't have a fucking bathroom curtain in our room. I am not waking up to Namjoon's dick in my face tomorrow morning."

Hoseok giggles, slapping a hand over his mouth so it doesn't spread. He's not supposed to giggle anymore. It makes them look 'unmanly.' He got a lecture about it the other day.

"Sorry," he tells Seokjin, in his best apologetic tone. "I'll be doing the same with Yoongi hyung. No curtains here either." 

"Seriously--are you fucking---" Hoseok starts laughing again. He can see another call coming in on the second line, presumably another room full of their bandmates horrified at their lack of privacy. He looks over at Yoongi, only to see him pressing his face against the glass and puffing his cheeks out rolling his eyeballs back so he looks like the world's ugliest zombie. 

"You are actually fucking disgusting," Hoseok says, winking at Yoongi while he says it. 

"What?" Seokjin says. 

"Nothing, hyung," Hoseok says. "Nothing, sorry, I have to go, um--" he presses down on the receiver, and gives Yoongi a Look as he places the phone off the hook. 

"Now I'm the one in trouble," Hoseok says, giving Yoongi his best, most highly perfected pout. It has been proven to work in 78% of all situations. "Seokjin thought I was telling him off." 

"Don't answer the phone," Yoongi says, grinning at he hops and jumps his way over to the bed, landing with a resounding thumb. "Make out with me instead. We've got like, at _least_ ten minutes." 

"But the phone--"

"They'll knock once they realize we're not answering," Yoongi says, tipping Hoseok's chin up and drawing him into a sleepy kiss. Hoseok realizes he has no idea what time it is. It could be 4pm in the afternoon. It could be 3am in the morning. The curtains are drawn, so he has no way to tell. He doesn't remember checking on their way from the airport to the hotel. 

Hoseok cups Yoongi's chin, rubbing his fingers over the slight stubble and smiling into the kiss. "You need to shave," He murmurs, when he pulls back for a second. "You're going to give me rug burn." 

"I haven't given you rug burn yet," Yoongi says, falling back against the pillows and tugging Hoseok down with him. "And I seem to remember shoving you up against some actual _rugs_." 

Hoseok snickers. "Point," he mouths, slicking his tongue over Yoongi's lower lip and letting himself settle down into the kiss. Yoongi has one hand on the small of Hoseok's back, tracing arcane patterns over his skin, and one hand clenched in Hoseok's hair. Hoseok doesn't want to hang out with the rest of the members or bemoan having to see Yoongi's dick or whatever the fuck they're supposed to be doing right now. He wants to stay here and slip his fingers underneath each one of Yoongi's carefully planned layers and unwrap him like a damn present until they can slip under the covers and turn the lights off and the real fun begins. 

"Yoongi-Hyung! Hobi-hyung!" That would be Jimin, then, sounding worried. Of course it is. That's the worst thing about Jimin--he's so sweet that Hoseok can't even be mad at him for more than a few seconds.

"Pain-in-the-ass little fucker," Yoongi murmurs fondly, as they slowly draw their mouths apart. "He probably thinks we're on fire or something." 

"I'm on fire for your love," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Wow, if you ever do that again, I'm lighting your dick on fire," Yoongi deadpans. "Ugh. You want to go answer the door?" 

"No," Hoseok answers, getting comfortable on top of on the covers and making sure his balls are protected. He knows that in about 2.5 seconds he's going to have a pile of Park Jimin and possibly also Kim Taehyung in his lap, and he'd like to make sure he can still have children before that happens. "I answered the phone. You answer the door." 

"I'm your hyung." 

"I'll blow you later." 

"Deal," Yoongi says, his voice cracking slightly. He swallows visibly and then pats himself down and goes to answer the door. 

Hoseok grins in triumph at the ceiling.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You, uh. Probably don't want to read this one in public. Heed the updated warnings :D

Ten hours later, Yoongi is eating ramen and watching Hoseok shower, because he's an asshole.

"Could you _not_ do that?" Hoseok says, leaning out the door of the bathroom and rolling his eyes. His wet hair drips on the carpet. "This isn't a strip show." 

"It could be," Yoongi says, twirling his chopsticks (noodles included) in a manner that's supposed to be suggestive. Min Yoongi is not nearly as slick as he likes to think he is. Hoseok rolls his eyes again and goes back to showering. 

"I don't know about you," Hoseok says, when he's wiping himself down with their tiny, hand-sized towel after his shower. "But I don't usually mix sex and noodles in my private life." 

"Look, I was hungry, and you were naked," Yoongi mumbles, still shoveling noodles into his mouth. "I didn't see a downside in that equation."

Hoseok sighs, dropping down on the bed next to Yoongi and leaning back against the pillows. It's warm enough in their hotel room that he's perfectly comfortable naked, even with the air conditioner at full blast. 

"Hi," Hoseok says, turning to face Yoongi, who has slowed down in his noodle-eating adventure. 

"Um," Yoongi says. He chews and swallows and then pauses, chopsticks quavering slightly in one hand. "Hi?"

"I thought you wanted to eat your noodles," Hoseok says innocently. 

"Your dick is really close to my face," Yoongi says. 

"Okay, fine, then give me the noodles and go shower," Hoseok says, even though the continual attention is starting to make him hard and it's slightly distracting. He's not hard _enough_ to turn down the rest of Yoongi's noodles, though. 

"Right," Yoongi says. He licks his lips. 

"Are these spicy?" Hoseok says, mumbling through his first mouthful. "Are these--okay, no, these are spicy, don't you _dare_. I know what you're thinking." 

Yoongi looks over at him with dark eyes. "Just a bit, come on, wouldn't it hurt...?"

"There's 'good hurt' and there's 'I dropped my dick in a bowl of spicy ramen' hurt," Hoseok says, narrowing his eyes. "Guess which one this one is. You're not giving me a blowjob with chili paste all over your mouth." 

"Fine," Yoongi says. He shoves himself off the bed, stripping as quickly and efficiently as possible, ending up entirely naked by the time he enters the bathroom. Hoseok leans back against the pillows and enjoys the view, slurping the last of the noodles and liquid from the cup and setting it aside. 

They're both too thin from too much practice and not enough calories, but where Hoseok is tall and lanky, Yoongi is smaller and more compact. He doesn't have the same muscle definition as Hoseok. He hasn't spent years as a dancer, honing his skills; he spent those years cooped up in his bedroom or in makeshift recording studios, scrawling his heart onto tiny scraps of paper. Yoongi spent that time honing his mind, not his body, so it's no surprise that he's not quite as fit as, say, Jimin. 

Hoseok doesn't mind. He's never cared about that kind of stuff anyway, but in the here and now, watching the water sluice down Yoongi's back, he thinks about how he likes the fact that Yoongi is still quietly soft around the edges. There is a gentleness to his form that the rest of them often lack. 

"Creeper," Yoongi yells, looking over his shoulder to frown at Hoseok 

Hoseok grins. "At least I'm not eating noodles like I'm watching Pay-Per-View porn."

Yoongi leans out the side of the bathroom, shaking his washcloth in Hoseok's direction and spraying him with a solid shower of droplets. Hoseok yelps, scooting back against the headboard and out of Yoongi's reach. 

"Tch," Yoongi says, shaking his head and giving Hoseok a dangerous look. "You're just trying to get me wound up, aren't you?"

"No," Hoseok says, drying his legs off with the comforter. _Maybe_ , he thinks to himself. _Probably_. He's comfortable and this is nice and companionable but there's an ever increasing pall hanging over the room, reminding them that they're alone and it's nighttime and after this they're going to slide into the same bed and do…

...something. Hoseok frowns to himself, because maybe they should have talked about this. Yoongi seems calm and unconcerned, but Yoongi is a master at hiding his feelings when it really matters. 

When Yoongi finishes his shower and sits down on the edge of the bed, drying his legs and his feet off, Hoseok leans his head on Yoongi's shoulder from behind. He coughs. 

"That was subtle," Yoongi drawls. "Are you catching a cold, or is it time to talk about our precious delicate cupcake feelings?"

"Shut up," Hoseok says, shoving him playfully and then letting his arms rest--ever so carefully--around Yoongi's waist. 

"I knew it was feelings," Yoongi says, sighing and throwing the towel back into the shower area. "Okay. Spill." 

"You make it sound so awful," Hoseok frowns. "I was just going to be like...you know. What did you want to…?"

"Oh," Yoongi says. 

"Yeah," Hoseok says. "See? Those aren't even feelings." 

Yoongi still looks distrustful, holding himself tightly, so Hoseok leans in and risks a kiss. 

Yoongi opens for him immediately. He lets out a soft groan, like he's hungry for whatever Hoseok will give him. Hoseok is sliding his hands into Yoongi's hair when he feels the familiar weight of Yoongi rolling them over, of Yoongi sliding on top of him so they can kiss face to face. 

Hoseok sighs, letting his head roll back and reveling in the delicious sensation of both of them sliding skin to skin. Yoongi moans, nipping and biting at Hoseok’s lower lip. They haven’t been this close and this naked since that one time on the practice room couch. 

Hoseok remembers that particular night and shivers, thinking about all the possibilities that this night allows them. There’s so much skin and so much privacy and Hoseok thinks he might want Yoongi to climb inside Hoseok’s skin and never leave.

"This okay, Princess?" Yoongi mutters. Hoseok grins, slapping Yoongi's ass and making him choke on his tongue. 

"Yes," Hoseok murmurs. "And don't call me Princess." 

Yoongi just shrugs, nuzzling Hoseok's head to the side so he can nip at the skin of Hoseok's neck. His hands find Hoseok’s wrists out of habit, lifting them up and pressing them over Hoseok’s head. Hoseok leans up, straining against his bonds and enjoying the low buzz of sensation as he nips at Yoongi’s neck, trying and failing to get a nice mouthful of skin.

“No marks,” Yoongi says, and his voice is lower, throatier, a rolling growl. “You know that.” 

“Make me,” Hoseok says. 

Yoongi presses harder on Hoseok’s wrists. “What,” Yoongi says, his voice a low, lazy curl. “Are you trying to get me to fuck you into submission, or something?”

“I---“ 

All the air in the room has been sucked out, because Hoseok is certain that none of it is in his lungs. He stares up at Yoongi and tries not to think about the sudden twist inside his stomach, about the way his his entire body had jumped at the thought. At the _suggestion_. Even though he’s never done that and no, actually, that’s not what he wants right now. But if they did--if they _did_ \--

“Um,” Hoseok says, after the silence stretches on too long and Yoongi is starting to look cautious and wary again. “Something like that?” 

Yoongi releases his tight grip on Hoseok’s wrists.

“Wait,” Yoongi says. His eyelashes flick up and down, taking in all of Hoseok, his body, his expression, the set of his shoulders. “You haven’t done that, have you?” 

“Uh,” Hoseok says. “Ah. No?”

“Not even with a girl?”

“No,” Hoseok says, looking away. He shrugs. “It never went that far."

Yoongi kisses him in response, a long, slow kiss that feels unexpectedly sweet. Yoongi may not talk about his feelings, but Hoseok hears the _shit, I'm sorry, I didn’t know_ written in Yoongi’s kiss all the same.

Hoseok takes a deep breath when Yoongi finally breaks away. 

“But I want to,” Hoseok whispers. “I'd do it with you." 

Hoseok slips his fingers through Yoongi's own, pulling them close again, settling them on his hips. Yoongi immediately clenches his fingers over Hoseok's hipbones. It's helpless movement, both sweet and amusingly possessive. Everything inside Hoseok feels warm.

Yoongi's mouth is hot and restless against his own, his tongue pushing past Hoseok's lips and teasing delicately across his soft palate. Hoseok arches his neck and then his back as Yoongi's nails slide down his sides. They leave sweet, burning trails in their wake. At the end, Yoongi slowly circles his fingers around the head of Hoseok's cock and Hoseok is pinned down, a butterfly under a glass bell jar, only this time he's the one who willingly fluttered inside. 

Yoongi presses his forehead against Hoseok's cheek, overwhelmed. He's panting just as roughly as Hoseok is, tightening his fingers every time Hoseok tries to move his hips.

"God," he mutters, letting out a rush of air against Hoseok's cheek. "You fuck me up so bad, you know that?"

"I _want_ you to fuck me up," Hoseok breathes, whining as he moves his hips and his cock slips through the tight ring of Yoongi's fingers. "Please, Yoongi hyung, please--"

Yoongi lets out a noise that, in other circumstances, Hoseok might describe as a purr. He slides his fingers into Hoseok's hair, tilting his head backwards and yanking until Hoseok is forced to arch his back. "You said you'd blow me," Yoongi whispers. "Remember?"

Hoseok nods, getting another yank and a sharp kiss for his efforts.

Yoongi scrapes his teeth along the curve of Hoseok's jawbone and then he pulls on Hoseok's hair so hard that Hoseok has to bite down on his own palm in order to stay silent. Yoongi hasn't told him to stay silent, hasn't said so in as many words, but there's only a thin wall between them and Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. He doesn't need to. 

Yoongi releases his hold on Hoseok's hair only to scratch his nails down his sides again and then pull him into a half-seated position. He's not being kind; his fingers twist along reddened skin and leave tiny, coin-sized bruises in their wake. Fingertip bruises. The only marks that Yoongi ever leaves, and the only ones small enough for Hosoek to explain away. 

Hoseok licks his lips and tries not to shake apart with anticipation. He has some idea where this is going, but it's not until Yoongi rubs his fingers over Hoseok's lips and mutters "Open your mouth," in a rough satoori that he really, truly understands. 

Hoseok swallows hard. Yoongi is kneeling in front of him, either knee on one side of Hoseok's hips; he has one hand on the back of the headboard and one hand trailing down Hoseok's jaw as he slips his thumb in between Hoseok's lips. 

_What if I don't_? Hoseok wants to say, but he keeps silent and wraps his lips and tongue around Yoongi's thumb. He sucks softly at first, flicking his eyelashes up, and then firmer and harder when he sees Yoongi's eyes flash in response. 

"Good," Yoongi whispers, pulling his finger away and dragging it across Hoseok's cheek. It leaves a shining trail of saliva, hot and wet from Hoseok's lips. 

Hoseok groans. "Please," he whispers, even as Yoongi is forcing his jaw open and tracing his lips with rough fingers. His cock is right _there_ , dark and wet with beads of pre-come trailing off the tip, scant millimeters from Hoseok's watering mouth. His own cock throbs in response but he doesn't look down, doesn't check to see how flushed and depraved he must look. 

Kneeling like this, god, _begging_ like this. It's too much and it's not enough, all at once, and Hoseok never, ever wants it to stop.

"That's it," Yoongi murmurs, pushing his hips forward, two hands sinking into Hoseok's hair this time. His cock brushes up against Hoseok's flushed lower lip. "Look up at me. Don't close your eyes." 

Hoseok smirks. He closes his eyes, slow and purposeful, and then Yoongi slaps him. 

It comes as a stinging rush of pain; the flavor of Yoongi in his mouth suddenly gone, to be replaced by an impact so firm it throws Hoseok's head to the side. Yoongi's fingers tighten in his hair and Hoseok groans, unable to keep himself quiet, unable to do anything but shiver as Yoongi tugs on his hair, pulls him back into place and then pushes forward and silences him with his cock. 

Hoseok keeps his gaze on Yoongi this time, eyes watering with the strain. He's panting with exertion, with adrenaline, with the shock and fear and pleasure rolling around in his stomach. 

Fuck, that had _hurt_. 

An uncontrollable shiver runs down Hoseok's spine.. 

Yoongi is thick and hot in his mouth, sharp with the taste of salt. Hoseok breathes through his nose and wonders how much longer he can go without closing his eyes, if closing his eyes means Yoongi is going to slap him every time he does it. If Yoongi will just go ahead and slap Hoseok with his cock in his mouth. 

"Fuck," Yoongi hisses, tipping his own head back and tugging Hoseok's head in tighter. Hoseok takes advantage of the situation and closes his eyes for a moment. His fingers inch towards the head of his cock but he decides against it, wrapping his fingers around Yoongi's thin hips instead. 

The pressure forces Yoongi even deeper down his throat, and when Hoseok looks up, he can see that Yoongi has shoved a fist into his own mouth to keep silent. Hoseok watches Yoongi as he bites down on his own knuckles, his eyes clenched shut and his other hand beginning to guide Hoseok's head back and forth on his cock. 

The slide of Yoongi in his mouth is warm and thick. Hoseok swirls his tongue over the head, below the glans, collecting scent and taste wherever he can. He bobs his head along with Yoongi's fist, trying not to shake apart. 

Yoongi pulls his fist out of his mouth, his knuckles rimmed with red crescents. 

"Is this what you wanted?" he says softly, soft enough that Hoseok has to concentrate to hear him over the sounds of spit and blood ringing in his ears. "Wanted to be filled up like this, wanted me to make it hurt, wanted me to come down your throat until you can't breathe?" 

Hoseok chokes, sudden and helpless. His breath is ringing in his ears and the sensation, god, the _sensation_ \--he hadn't expected a reaction like that, has never had his whole body light up just from someone _talking to him_. 

He pulls back, coughing and choking and trying to catch his breath. His chest heaves. 

Yoongi's hand in his hair immediately softens, until he's no longer tugging on the strands but instead softly brushing the tips of his fingers against the back of Hoseok's neck. Hoseok looks up and Yoongi's eyes are wide and shocked. Concerned. 

Hoseok watches as Yoongi licks his lips. The muscles in his thighs are shaking visibly from the effort of holding back and his cock is as hard as ever, but Yoongi grits his teeth, taking a deep breath and letting it flow out. Pulling himself back from the brink.

"Should we stop?" Yoongi whispers, watching Hoseok closely. Hoseok can hear the question in his voice. _Did I go too far? Are you okay?"_

Hoseok presses against the soft touch of Yoongi's fingers carding through his hair. He leans forward and breathes Yoongi in, his mouth catching on the skin of Yoongi's thighs. Hoseok closes his eyes and sucks a bruise right where his mouth has fallen, in the crease of Yoongi's thigh, relishing the feeling of Yoongi's hands tightening in his hair. 

"Don't stop," Hoseok says, leaning back so he can see Yoongi's face again. "It's okay." 

"But I--you choked," Yoongi whispers, letting the words trail off. _I made you choke on my dick._

"So?" Hoseok says, trying to keep the words light. He's shaking inside, too much stimulation and want and delicious, delicious humiliation. He wonders if Yoongi can hear it in his voice. "Do it again. Fuck my mouth until you come." 

Yoongi swears under his breath. He presses one fingernail into Hoseok's lower lip. Hoseok knows what he must look like; mouth red and swollen, wet from spit and come. He wants more. He wants to feel Yoongi making him choke and gag until there is nothing and no one left inside him at all. 

Hoseok turns his head, mouthing along the side of Yoongi's cock when it becomes clear that Yoongi isn't going to make the first move. He make sure to suck hot kisses along his length, to wrap his slim fingers around the base and suck noisily on the head until Yoongi groans and bucks his hips forward. 

"Fucking--you're so fucking-- _Jesus_ Hoseok," Yoongi growls, sinking his hands back into Hoseok's hair. Hoseok relaxes his body and lets his mouth fall open. Yoongi thrusts his hips forward and his cock hits the back of Hoseok's throat and Hoseok gags again but he doesn't move. 

"Sometimes this is all I can think about when you smile," Yoongi murmurs, as he guides Hoseok's head up and down his cock. "I think about how I could bruise it up, mark it. Split your lip from too much cock down your---throat--" 

Hoseok whines, digging his fingers into Hoseok's thighs as he chokes and gags. His whole body is thrumming and his eyelashes feel wet but Yoongi's voice is like sandpaper on his skin and he never wants it to end. He can't stop his throat from working. Every time he gags, his eyes water and he's crying now, maybe, his eyes are wet and full and Yoongi's smell and taste is everywhere and his hands are in Hoseok's hair and this is so much, so fucking much. 

"Coming," Yoongi manages, between gritted teeth. "Coming, I'm--oh, oh fuck--" Hoseok leans backwards, pulls against Yoongi's hands so his cock isn't quite so deep in Hoseok's mouth. Hoseok feels Yoongi's cock jump in his mouth and then he can taste a hot rush of liquid on his tongue. 

Yoongi's come is thick and slightly bitter. It feels like Hoseok keeps swallowing forever. Every time he pulls back to lick the head of Yoongi's cock there's another small spurt, another drop he needs to clean up. His whole body burns from the taste.

Yoongi's thighs give out and he falls awkwardly back onto his heels. He's breathing hard, and a deep red flush has spread over his collarbones and high on his cheeks. Hoseok wants to kiss him, so he does, forgetting Yoongi's earlier comments about how jizz tastes super gross. 

He remembers as soon as he slips his tongue past Yoongi's lips and Yoongi tenses up in surprise. Hoseok winces. 

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbles, swollen lips struggling to form the syllables, but Yoongi just pulls him closer, sucking the taste from his lips. 

"It's different," Yoongi slurs, high on spit and endorphins. "It's different--when it's mine, when it's in your mouth--" He sucks hard on Hoseok's tongue, lapping up the taste everywhere he can reach, even cleaning up a thick smudge on Hoseok's cheek. 

"Fuck," Hoseok whines. "Fuck, jerk me off, please--" He wraps his hand around his own neglected cock but Yoongi bats it away, using both hands to smear Hoseok's precome all over his shaft. 

Hoseok groans, bucking his hips forward. He feels a hand on his shoulder and then Yoongi is pushing him backwards, laying him down, jerking him fast and rough before swallowing him down. 

It's not like the last time they did this. The last time Yoongi had been nervous, exploratory; this time feels like pure need. Yoongi sucks him rough and forceful, moaning when he takes Hoseok all the way down, scratching his fingernails along Hoseok's sides and over his belly. Hoseok fists his hands in Yoongi's hair just to hold on. He's so close, so very close, and his thighs are beginning to shake in anticipation when Yoongi--

\--stops. 

He pulls off, his hands dropping away from Hoseok's cock, sitting back on his heels. Hoseok thrusts his hips into nothingness, whining and sinking his hands into whorls of hotel sheets. 

"No," Hoseok gasps. "No, dammit--you fucking--"

Yoongi leans over him, lines them up face to face, even pressing a fleeting kiss to Hoseok's lips and brushing at the tears on Hoseok's cheeks before pulling away. "Beg me for it," he whispers. 

Hoseok doesn't waste a beat, no, not now, not when he's so close and Yoongi looks so wild and untamed. "Please," Hoseok whispers, a hint of a moan slicing through the words. 

"More." Yoongi is laying himself down, carefully pressing skin against skin, but he's still barely touching Hoseok. 

"Please, Yoongi hyung, please, fuck,"

"More," Yoongi repeats, rubbing his thumb carefully over the slit of Hoseok's cock. Hoseok lets out a full-voiced whimper, and then snaps back to reality when he realizes how loud that was. Shit. He needs something to bite down on. He needs--"

"God, you need it so bad, don't you," Yoongi says, reaching over Hoseok's shoulder and grabbing the closest item of clothing--an old T-shirt. His other hand circles Hoseok's cock, just barely tight enough to feel. 

Hoseok lets out a groan, bucking his hips up. He's so far gone, so far past any notion of propriety, so far past what he should or shouldn't do in bed. He pulls Yoongi's head down, gripping Yoongi's chin with his fingernails as he takes what he wants from Yoongi's mouth. 

"Just fucking make me cry," Hoseok whispers, biting down on Yoongi's lip as hard as he can, hard enough to taste the satisfying tang of copper. "Please, fuck, come on, suck me off, make me come--"

Yoongi pulls away, shoving the T-shirt in Hoseok's mouth before Hoseok even has time to react. He blinks for a moment, but then he's grateful for the gag because Yoongi is sucking him thick and rough, two hands around the base, Hoseok's cockhead pressing against Yoongi's soft palate and just barely breaching his throat. 

Hoseok closes his eyes, moaning against the soft cotton in his mouth as Yoongi takes him further and further down with each dip of his head. Yoongi's hands are holding him tightly, jerking him from the base, rubbing over his balls and teasing along his perineum, making Hoseok jerk up and cry out because oh, god. If Yoongi were to move his fingers back--just a few inches, just, brushing over Hoseok's hole, the barest hint of a fingertip inching inside--

Hoseok spills into Yoongi's mouth, crying out loud enough that he's not sure even the gag made any difference. Yoongi swallows all of it, his nose buried in Hoseok's pubic hair, his lips stretched around Hoseok's cock. 

Hoseok's eyelashes flutter. His cheeks feel wet and he doesn't know if he cried again, doesn't know if he even cried in the first place but it's enough. Everything was more than enough. He feels sated. He feels like the hotel could fall down around them and he wouldn't care. All he wants is to lie on this bed and breath while Yoongi slowly cleans him up and presses open-mouth kisses against Hoseok's skin. 

There's a thick, blurry darkness at the edges of his mind, something comforting and numbing all at once. Something that feels halfway between sleep and exhaustion. There's no other way to describe it. It has no form, no shape or being. It is simple a soft absence drifting closer and closer, wrapping him up in its haze.

Hoseok closes his eyes, and lets himself fall.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so, so incredibly sorry this took so long.

The phone is ringing. 

Hoseok's head is pounding, the phone is ringing, and there is a patch of dried come on his stomach that pulls and tugs at the soft skin of his stomach. He groans, shoving his face into his pillow, trying to find focus. The sheets of the bed are pure white and offer no answers. 

Next to him, Yoongi groans in response. 

Hoseok finally rolls over and tries to answer one of the three, count that, _three_ phones that are ringing. The hotel phone, his cell, and Yoongi's cell. Hoseok has never had so many damn phones to choose from in his whole life. 

"Hi" he says. His voice is a thick rasp, and he winces. His throat hurts. Because--

Right. Because.

"Wake up, hyung," Jimin mumbles to him. "Wake up and get Yoongi hyung up too. We have half an hour before we need to go."

"Okay," Hoseok says. "You can stop calling Yoongi's phone. He's up."

"You should go sit on him to make sure," Jimin says, very seriously. Hoseok lets out a weak laugh. 

Ha. Right. Funny.

Hoseok hangs up instead, just as Yoongi's phone stops ringing. He takes a deep breath, filling his diaphragm and his lungs, trying to get the anxiety crawling down his spine to relax. Then the hotel phone rings again, and Hoseok resolves to kill whoever ordered the wake up calls.

Next to him, Yoongi makes a noise between a growl and a curse. He reaches out, grabbing the phone and pulling it off the hook.

Hoseok looks at him.

"I hate phones," Yoongi mumbles. He looks just as exhausted as Hoseok.

None of this feels right. 

Hoseok gets up and stumbles into the bathroom, their tiny glass bathroom full of silver and chrome. He looks in the mirror, biting his lip and running the tips of his fingers over the side of his neck. He definitely has bruises from last night. 

He leans down, splashing water on his face and then reaching blindly for the hotel soap. Something inside of him feels strangely empty. 

A hand passes the soap to him, pressing it between his fingers, and Hoseok almost jumps. He didn't notice Yoongi coming up behind him. 

"Here," Yoongi says. He trails his hand softly over Hoseok's shoulder, unthinking, protective. "Couldn't just...sit in bed and watch you brain yourself on the sink or something." 

"Thanks," Hoseok says. He washes his face and dries it off and then stands up again, letting his shoulders fall and moving over so Yoongi can use the sink. Hoseok has no idea what time it is. From the glowing slivers of light darting in underneath the dark curtains, he suspects it is early in the morning. Sunrise, maybe. 

Hoseok looks at himself in the mirror, brushing his fingers over the bruises again. "Do you have any makeup with you?" Hoseok says, when Yoongi has finished drying his face off and is reaching for one of the disposable hotel toothbrushes. "We, um--"

"Oh." Something flashes across Yoongi's face that looks like regret. "Shit," he mutters softly, brushing his thumb over a particularly obvious bruise. Hoseok stays still, even though part of him wants to move away and that's wrong, that's wrong too. Normally he loves when Yoongi touches his bruises, loves it like he loves sunshine and new sneakers and the endless feeling of summer mornings. Today he wants to curl up into himself and never leave. 

Yoongi must understand, somehow, because he drops his hand and looks down at the floor. "Maybe," Yoongi says, eventually. "But I think my BB cream--" 

"It will be too light for me," Hoseok. "Shit." 

Yoongi licks his lips slowly, biting down on the corner of his mouth as he thinks. "You said Taetae knows," He says. 

Hoseok blinks. Right. Yes. Taehyung. Taehyung definitely knows too much. 

"Maybe he has something we could borrow?" Yoongi continues. His voice is soft, and it's making something clench in Hoseok's chest. Yoongi is treating him like he's fragile, like he's worried about Hoseok, and Yoongi almost never does that. Yoongi worries by nagging and teasing and pressing small presents into Hoseok's hands when he least expects it. Yoongi doesn't soften up for anyone. 

This isn't _right_. 

"I'll go ask," Hoseok says, walking over to his bag and throwing a large sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants on. Anything to cover up the bruises and get him into Tae's room without Jimin or Jungkook noticing. 

"Right," Yoongi says, nodding slowly. He looks just as lost as Hoseok feels. His hands open and close into empty fists.

"Um--yeah," Hoseok says. He grabs his key-card and stuffs it in his pocket. "So I'm. Yeah. Going now." 

Hoseok pulls the door open, tucking the hood of his sweatshirt over his head as he knocks on the door of the next hotel room. It takes two or three tries, but eventually a shirtless Jimin opens up the door. 

"Hyung?" Jimin mumbles, blinking at him in confusion. He's wearing pants and shoes and no socks. Hoseok decides not to point it out.

"Where's Taehyung?" Hoseok says, pushing past Jimin. "Is he still in here?"

"He's...In the shower," Jimin says, eyebrows furrowed as Hoseok pushes him aside and opens the bathroom door. "Um, I mean--"

"Eh?" Taehyung says, when the door opens. He's buckass naked, brushing his teeth and staring at all of them in confusion. 

Hoseok thinks about explaining, and then decides it's not worth thinking up a lie. He's too tired and he's too out of it. He'll let Taehyung deal with that part of the story.

Hoseok lets the door slam closed behind him. Taehyung gives him a bemused look, and then spits out his mouthful of toothpaste. 

"Good morning?" Tae says.

"Not really," Hoseok says. "I mean. It's not really a good morning." 

"Okay." 

"Can I borrow your bb cream?"

"Can I put a towel on?" Taehyung is rinsing and gargling in between short sentences. He's still naked, but Hoseok doesn't really care. It's nothing he hasn't seen before. Taehyung is like his little brother. 

"Yeah," Hoseok sighs, sitting down on the closed toilet seat and waving a hand in frustration. "Do whatever you need. I just need to borrow something to cover these up." He pushes the hood of his sweatshirt back and then changes his mind and takes it off completely.

Taehyung sucks in a surprised breath. He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist and then he's across the bathroom in an instant, brushing his fingers over the bruises and looking very, very concerned. 

"What is--did he do this to you?" Taehyung says, swallowing hard. "Yoongi hyung did this to you? Why? Why would he--" he looks like he can't even process the thought of Yoongi hurting someone like that, and Hoseok can understand. Yoongi _would_ never hurt someone like that--in most circumstances. 

Except these aren't exactly normal circumstances.

"It's fine," Hoseok says, trying to wave Taehyung's hands off. "It's okay, it's okay. Things just got a little rough, I--" Hoseok swallows, feeling the heat in his cheeks as he blushes. "I wanted it. It's okay." He looks down at the floor. "You don't need to worry about me or anything like that." 

"Oh." Taehyun drops his hand, peering at Hoseok. "You don't sound like you wanted it now, though," Taehyung says. He's giving Hoseok a concerned expression and dammit, damn Taehyung and his stupid, frustrating ability to read people like an open book.

"It was fine last night," Hoseok says, giving up on all pretence of secrecy. "It was okay, I was into it and he was into it and it was good and now this morning it's just all--weird. I feel weird." 

"You're definitely acting weird," Taehyung says. He looks down at where Hoseok is clenching his hands into fists.

"I know," Hoseok says. He follows Taehyung's line of sight, and then sighs and uncurls his fingers.

Taehyung hums for a moment. He steps back, folding his arms and regarding Hoseok critically.

"Do you want a hug?" he says.

Hoseok swallows. "I---what?"

"Yeah, you need a hug," Taehyung says. He pulls on Hoseok's crossed elbows, gently bringing him to standing before throwing his arms around him and nesting his nose in Hoseok's shoulder. They're skin to skin and it's just--comforting, Hoseok realizes, as he carefully hugs Taehyung back. There's something calming about it. Taehyung is warm and the bathroom is warm and full of steam and maybe _this_ is what he was missing, last night. He doesn't know. Maybe this is what he needed. 

Taehyung gives him a good long squeeze and then releases him. "I promise to give you lots of hugs today," Taehyung says, in a very serious voice. "Like, so many you're going to get really annoyed and shove me away and tell me to fuck off." 

"That's probably a good idea." Hoseok manages. 

"Yoongi hyung sucks at hugging," Taehyung says, nodding his head. 

"What? No, he's fine," Hoseok says, automatically coming to his defense. 

"Okay, Yoongi hyung sucks at hugging when there are actual feelings involved," Taehyung says, rolling his eyes. "And it sounds like you two had some feelings and shit. And _I'm_ telling you that you guys need to hug more." 

"Where do you even GET this stuff?" Hoseok asks, staring at Taehyung with a mixture of grudging admiration and utter confusion. "You've never even been on a date!"

"Romance dramas, duh," Taehyung says. "You guys are TOTALLY a romance drama. I mean, obviously, right now he's not taking care of you right and now you're going to fly into the arms of another man who's been waiting for his chance."

Hoseok blinks. "What the fuck? There's no one waiting around to steal me away. And, and--wait, jesus, I am NOT a drama heroine!" 

"Whatever," Taehyung says, waving his hand. "Same principle. You guys need to hug more, or Yoongi hyung is going to get hit by a bus and lose his memory before you know it." 

"Oh my god," Hoseok groans, but he can feel himself smiling around the edges. Stupid Taehyung. Stupid, occasionally brilliant Taehyung. "Just shut up and give me your BB cream." 

"Okay," Taehyung says, beaming at him with his box-bright smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

The rest of the day falls forward in halting, lurching steps. 

Hoseok tries to swim through most of it, to hover lightly above the chaos and the noise that is ever drowning them. They're here for a first-ever fan-meet and it is impressively disorganized, even after all the things they've seen. They go to a hotel, wait, get told they're at the wrong hotel, wait, get in cabs, wait. They drive across the city looking like fledgling birds as they gape at the bustling streetscapes of Moscow, and then stop abruptly for lunch because apparently plans have changed, again, and this is the only time they've have to eat until they're back on the plane. 

Taehyung hovers at his elbow, poking him, tickling him, keeping watch on him in a sweet but possessive way. Yoongi has tried to come over more than once, but both times Taehyung had grabbed Hoseok's arm and led him into the nearest doorway. The second time, that doorway had turned out to be a stairwell.

"Tae, stop," Hoseok had said, shaking his hand off his arm. "I'm okay. You don't need to like, _protect_ me." 

"I'm not protecting you," Taehyung said. "I'm blessing you with my presence."

"Yeah, well you're blessing me with your presence quite a lot," Hoseok grumbled. The words came out sounding fond. He couldn't find it in himself to be mad at Taehyung, even if his clinging was starting to make Hoseok slightly claustrophobic. Hoseok would have his chance to get space soon enough. It would be space in an auditorium full of 2,000 fans, but. 

Space, all the same. 

"Hyunggggggggggggggggggggggggggs?" Jungkook's bored voice blared through the closed door. He didn't sound like he was any rush to find Hoseok and Taehyung, but Hoseok didn't want to stay in the stairwell for too long. With his luck, they'd end up locked in and trapped for all eternity. 

"In here," Hoseok said, pushing the door open. "We took a wrong turn." 

"Damn." Jungkook sighed. "Well, can I come make a wrong turn with you? We're all just standing here and waiting in the lobby while they make space for us in the hotel restaurant." 

"No," Hoseok says, after seriously considering it. "Come on. Suck it up, let's go back." 

"Fuck," Jungkook murmurs. Taehyung whacks him on the shoulder. "Language!"

"You swear like every fourth word!" Jungkook shoots back, amused. Hoseok falls behind, letting this familiar conversation take its course. The space behind his eyes hurts. He's probably just hungry, right? He's just hungry. 

Hoseok closes his eyes, trying to drown out the sound of Tae and Jungkookie's argument. He rubs at his temples.

Today sucks. 

\--

The thought of the fan-meet cheers Hoseok up slightly, because it's never not a joy to be on stage. Never not exciting to meet a new room full of faces they've never seen who somehow, across languages and miles, have been touched by their music. By _his_ music. By something they've all created, together, out of blood and and sweat and hours pouring over harsh computer monitors in darkly lit rooms. They have all done this together, come this far together, and Hoseok will never forget that. 

He just. 

Needs space from one of those members right now, that's all. 

But on stage, there's no space, and Hoseok is paradoxically glad. He doesn't want their thing--whatever their _thing_ together is--to affect the group. On stage they are just Yoongi and J-Hope, two-thirds of Rap Line, two-sevenths of the miraculous underdog K-Hiphop group Bangtan Sonyeondan. They step in for each other when one of them misses a verbal mark, they trade lyrics back and forth like water through a sieve. On stage, during their quick rehearsal, everything looks fine. 

And for the moment, it is.

\--

It's not a notebook or a journal or a diary. It's just a little thing that a fan gave him, along with the matching pen and pencil, bright red with tattoo-stencils of anchors along the bottom.

("Anchors mean hope," she'd said sheepishly, hiding behind her long bangs. She couldn't have been more than 12.)

Hoseok hadn't intended to turn it into his everyday scribbling notebook, but on leaving that particular fansign he'd discovered that it fit perfectly in his back pocket and was flexible enough to sit on and squish and still be useable. So that was that, really. 

Hoseok knows that he should probably just write everything in his phone, like the other guys, but there is something about the physical act of writing that he likes. It makes him slow down, makes him channel all that restless energy into discrete circles and lines and characters. It makes his body listen.

Hoseok knows that if he looks up, he'll see Yoongi hovering just behind him. Hoseok is seated on an ancient folding chair on the side the stage taking a moment to write down some half-formed thoughts while they wait for their fans to arrive. 

"I can hear you breathing, you know," Hoseok finally says. He adds a final word to his sentences with careful penmanship. That's probably a creepy-sounding thing to say, but Yoongi's the one hovering behind him in the first place.

"Yeah," Yoongi says. When Hoseok turns around, Yoongi's staring off into the distance, hands shoved in his pockets and lips pressed tightly together. He doesn't meet Hoseok's eyes when Hoseok turns and looks at him, choosing instead to now stare down at the wooden floor.

"So?" Hoseok says.

"So," Yoongi agrees. He lowers his voice. "I fucked something up, right?"

"No, you didn't--" Hoseok rubs a hand over his eyes. "No, hyung. You didn't fuck anything up. It's not that simple."

Yoongi nods. He swallows. There's tension in the air between them, thick as thieves, and Hoseok hates the way it's making his skin crawl.

"Then I'll just, uh--" Yoongi coughs, awkwardly. "I'll just leave you alone--"

"Wait." Hoseok gives up and just shoves his book in the back pocket of his stage pants. He stands up, leaning in as close to Yoongi as he can stand right now. Yoongi's eyes are sharper like this, through no fault of his own, tinted with eyeshadow and lined with kohl. 

"This is--" Hoseok waves a hand in the air, his fingers twirling like the tiny birds that dart over and above the rounded peak of Namsan.

"This is temporary," Hoseok says. "It's not just you. We both messed up." He licks his lips, and then circles two fingers around Yoongi's thin wrist. That, at least, feels right. Hoseok holds on, bringing the rest of his fingers up as Yoongi relaxes. He watches as Yoongi looks down at their hands and then slowly twists his own, stroking at the inside of Hoseok's palm with his thumb.

"Are you sure?" Yoongi says, still soft. 

"We'll fix it," Hoseok says. "Just give me some space, hyung."

"Right," Yoongi says. "I can..I can do that. Okay." 

Hoseok squeezes his wrist just once before he lets go. "Thanks," he says, finally dropping back into the banmal he's begun using with Yoongi when they're alone, even though he shouldn't. Hoseok had slipped into it one day, sleepy and post-coital, and Yoongi has never corrected him. Now it just makes the corner of Yoong's mouth quirk up. "Brat."

Hoseok grins because this, at least, is familiar territory. "Fuckface."

"Motherfucking son of a cunt--"

"Whoa, hey," Seokjin says, walking closer to them and interrupting. He's holding a cup of steaming instant noodles in one hand and chopsticks in the other. He stares at them. "Uh, are you guys, like--okay?"

Yoongi laughs, waving off Seokjin's confused stare. "It's fine," Yoongi says, covering for Hoseok like he always does. "It's fine, we're just joking around."

"Yeah, alright," Seokjin says, rolling his eyes. He turns, walks a few steps, and then leans back over his left shoulder. "Cockbags," he mutters, still looking innocent.

Neither Hoseok or Yoongi can keep from laughing.

\--

During the fanmeet, it feels like their fans shine so bright that they've brought some extra sunshine for Hoseok, too. Even if the day outside is wet and chill, there is nothing but laughter in this small auditorium, nothing but excited screams and squeals when staff come to clear away their signing tables and the house lights dim and it becomes clear that they're going to perform. It feels infinitesimal now, a few songs, a few minutes of choreography that Hoseok has beaten into his soul as well as his bones. And yet less than four years ago, they were living on ramen and water and hope.

The fans scream, just beyond the edge of the stage lights. Flashes pop in the darkness. 

Together, they all shine.

**Author's Note:**

> March 2018 - Unfortunately, I think this story needs to be marked as finished as it gets. I've been working on something else, going through some shit, and I just can't work on this one anymore. I'm sorry to everyone who was waiting on this. 
> 
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> 
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